


Golden Cage

by smolandgrumpy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Anal Fingering, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Car Sex, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Feelings, Fluff, Forced Marriage, Heartache, Human Trafficking, Kidnapping, Oral Sex, Organized Crime, Praise Kink, Protective Dean Winchester, Public Sex, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:07:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 33
Words: 158,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26476159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolandgrumpy/pseuds/smolandgrumpy
Summary: She’s a spoiled little princess — at least that’s what people say. Her father is the King of all Kings, the man who everyone fears. Then, along comes Dean Winchester, the one guy who manages to see into her soul, but —— is Dean really who he says he is?
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 190
Kudos: 118





	1. Prologue

Y/N screws the coffee piston into the machine and pushes a button. The loud rumbling sound of the machine coming to life can be heard above the chatter of the people in the restaurant as brown liquid spills into two espresso cups she placed underneath. 

While she waits for the coffee to finish dripping out, she takes a look around the restaurant. They don’t own a fancy one, because that wouldn’t be the family tradition. It’s a restaurant that opens for the breakfast crowd and stays open for the night owls, so there’s always a crowd gathered around here from morning till night. This means that she has plenty to do and organize and the workdays keep her occupied.

The morning faces are mostly the same. People stopping for breakfast before work, but mostly they are people who have some kind of connection to her father or they respect his organization enough to come here. There are a lot of people who avoid it, though, and she can’t blame them. Y/N nods at them as they lift their hands, telling them with her eyes that she’ll be right with them to take their orders. She has employed some waitresses and cooks, but she’s involved here as much as they are. Working here is something that gives her meaning. She’d probably die if she can’t work and get her mind off the stupid life she lives.

Placing the espressos on the tray, she turns around to grab the waffles which her cook, Garth, had laid out on the counter for her to take. 

Balancing the tray, she moves to the table of the people who were waiting for their orders, and brings them the breakfast they’ve been asking for. They are regulars, and they usually leave a good tip, so she smiles some more. 

When Y/N’s about to walk back, the bell above the door chimes, which prompts her to look. 

A tall man in a dark suit walks in, brown hair, his face slightly scruffy. She always checks out suspicious looking guys. It’s mandatory for survival. But guys in suits are nothing unusual in this place, since her dad operates from the basement of this restaurant and sometimes they would come in through the front instead of the back. The only unusual thing is, that she’s never seen this man before.

His shoulders are broad and the smile sits brightly on his face when he notices her staring, the crinkles around his eyes running deep. He nods at her as he takes a seat close to the register. 

She feels blood rushing to her head and immediately looks away.

 _Oh god_ , he looks so good. Maybe a little mysterious. That’s probably why she’s all flustered. It doesn’t happen often that a good looking guy finds his way in here. Mainly because people around here know what kind of restaurant it is, people know who the restaurant belongs to. And they certainly know that she works here, the only daughter of Azazel Lehni. This part of the city belongs to her father. No, who’s she even kidding? The whole fucking city belongs to her dad. But it’s especially this part of the city that people are more aware of him, because it’s where their HQ is based. 

Besides working in the restaurant and being at home, there’s not a lot of places she’s allowed to go and that’s really absurd since the city belongs to her dad, but there are still enough enemies around, she guesses. She’s not allowed to a lot of places, and especially not on her own. Dating is only allowed when the guy she wants to go out with undergoes a thorough background check or is a son of one of her dad’s business associates, and honestly, they all are the same macho men who disrespect women. She doesn’t want anything to do with them.

She’s gnawing on her bottom lip and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she makes her way back to the counter, the tray hugged tightly to her body. When she’s back there, she has to face him, and she’s trying to breathe evenly to calm herself down.

Placing the tray back behind the coffee machine, she clears her throat before she speaks, “Hi,” 

_Wow, great, Y/N. That’s a good start. Fabulous._

“Hey,” The man greets her and he smiles a really cute smile. She notices that he smiles with his eyes too. That’s not something a lot of people do.

She can flirt with him, right? There’s no harm in flirting. Her dad’s not here anyway. Yeah, she can flirt, but how does it work again? It feels like it has been ages! 

“What can I get you?”

He’s still smiling, like he knows something she doesn’t and she wonders if she has some breakfast leftover around her mouth? Maybe there’s something in between her teeth? She pushes the irritation out of her head and channels her inner Aphrodite, not that it probably would matter.

“A coffee, please.” 

Y/N raises her eyebrow at him as she stares him down.

The man’s smirking, “What? You _do_ serve coffee, right?”

“We serve espressos, yeah. It’s probably not like the regular coffee you’re used to. It’s much stronger.” She braces her hands on the counter and leans forward, her lips curve into a cocky grin, “I hope that’s going to be okay? Or do you want me to weaken it and make you a cappuccino…” She stares at him some more, grins too, a little cocky maybe, and he takes the hint.

His grin replicates hers. Probably as cocky, and she can’t say that it doesn’t suit him, “Dean, you can call me Dean.”

“Okay, Dean, can you handle it? Or do you want for me to pour some milk into it?”

“Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea what I can handle.” He laughs and fucking winks. 

Dean’s good at flirting. She has to give him that. She hopes she wasn’t that bad either. And now her cheeks feel hot as she nods and begins to work on the coffee machine. 

Her dad loves coffee and he always hated the pot coffees they used to have, so he bought this real fancy machine where it’s actually more work but she enjoys it. Enjoys the whole process and it really does taste better than a pot that’s been sitting warmly on its stove for hours.

Just when she sets the coffee in front of Dean, she hears the bell chime again. She tears her eyes away from the man to see her dad walking in.

He nods at her and she abandons Dean quickly, walks over to the place where he always sits. Her dad hates to be kept waiting.

“Breakfast, Dad?” She asks when she’s standing before him and watches him sitting down.

“Please, Y/N. Only coffee. I just ate at Bobby’s place. Can you bring it, and one for yourself too? And please come sit down, I need to talk to you.”

She nods but her heart thumps in her chest. Was it the flirting? Did he watch her? But again, if he did, Dean wouldn’t be sitting here, would he? Her dad would make sure to bring him down to the office and beat the shit out of him probably.

As she walks back behind the counter to make two espressos, she feels Dean’s eyes on her. He’s still sitting there, sipping on his espresso. She wonders if she’s made it too strong, because she actually did, just to throw him off and rile him up, but when she looks up again, Dean’s downing it and smiles at her after. 

She snorts. _Show off._

When the two espressos are ready, she carries it over to her dad and sits down on the chair across from him, feeling a little nervous because he rarely wants her to join him. Also, he’s rarely alone and she’s glad that he is now. She hates his little soldiers, if she’s honest. They’re all spineless dicks.

They drink their coffee in silence and when he finishes, he leans back into the booth seat he’s sitting in, his fingers playing with the little mug. 

“How are you?” He asks and Y/N raises her eyebrows with irritation. Her dad doesn’t even look at her, still staring at his own fingers that are toying with the mug.

They see each other a lot since they’re living under the same roof, so she doesn’t know why he’s asking, really.

“Good.” 

“Is the restaurant keeping you busy, dear?” 

“Dad, what is it?” She blurts out. Mainly because she wants him to cut the chase. Dad can always go on and on around the fucking point.

He takes a deep breath and exhales loudly, “It’s Bobby.” 

She frowns. Bobby is the consigliere in the family. As far as she can remember, Bobby was always there. She grew up calling him Uncle, even if they’re not blood related.

“What’s with Uncle Bobby?” She can’t hide the concern in her voice. 

“Eh,” Her father says, “He’s old, you know that. He wants to retire.” 

Oh, there’s an exhale of breath she didn’t know she had been holding. She was worried something else had happened.

“And you let him?” 

Bobby’s not _old_ old. There are people working for her dad who are much older.

“I respect the wishes of my people, Y/N.” Her father says and she almost snorted out loudly. _Yeah, just not mine_ , she thinks.

“And you’re telling me that because?”

“I was wondering how happy you are here. I think it’s time I get you into the business too, since Bobby will be gone and I need to have someone around whom I can trust.”

 _You had Mom_ , she wanted to say, _see where that got her_ . Her mom worked for him, or _with_ him. She was the one he would trust the most, but her mom got killed while she was standing in the way of someone who was out to get her father. Y/N’s sure that it isn’t the life her mom wanted her child to grow up in. 

It’s really the moment she dreaded the most in her life. Her dad always let her live her life the way _he_ thinks is suitable for her. After what happened with her mom, he actually never wanted her to join, too heartbroken with the loss. She never wanted to either, and she doesn’t think she ever will.

“But Dad—”

“—Think about it, okay? Right now, I need you by my side and it would be good if you would join us.”

 _Good if you would join us_ is translated into her language to _You have no choice but to join us_.

This is it, right? This is the day she’s been dreading all her life. Dad wants her to join his organization. Dad wants her to become a fucking criminal along with him. 

She looks around the restaurant. It would mean that she has to give up the place she came to love. And while her eyes are scanning the room, she notices that Dean’s not sitting there anymore. She wonders when he left, thinks about asking Jo, her other waitress if she’s seen him leave. Y/N must have been so wrapped up in her conversation with her dad that she didn’t even hear the doorbell going off. 

_No_ , is what she wants to say. _I’m happy the way things are_. But instead, she trains her gaze down to the table and sighs before she speaks, “I’ll think about it.”

Right, we’ll have a party at our house tomorrow to say goodbye to Bobby. I want you to take the day off and help prepare the catering at the house.

“Okay,” 

“I’ll do some announcements then. There will be some changes within the organization. I hope you will have your mind made up by then.” 

Her father leaves to walk to the back of the restaurant without saying goodbye. 

  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  


On the day of the party, there’s a knock at her door. Y/N’s about to change into something more presentable after having helped with catering and setting up the party the whole day through. She just came out of the shower and her hair’s still dripping wet. Quickly she wraps a bathrobe around her body.

“Y/N?” There’s a knock again and she knows that it’s Nick. 

Ugh, she has no patience whatsoever for Nick. The biggest of dicks is what he is. Bobby once took Nick under his wing and he’s been making a move on her since he set foot into the organization. Nick’s a complete sleazeball and he probably thinks that she’s super into him. She bet he’s already planning on asking her dad if he could marry her. Ew. Oh my god, she hopes that Nick won’t become the new consiglieri because that would mean that he has to live here for some time, because her father wants his consigliere close, and she doesn’t want that. Bobby used to live here himself, up until about two years ago. She guesses that he was already planning for his retirement then.

“I’m coming!” She yells as the knocking won’t stop. 

Nick’s such a pain in the ass, she swears! Y/N opens up to Nick’s smug smile but she doesn’t return it. Instead, she rolls her eyes.

“What is it?” 

“You didn’t need to cover yourself up for me, honey.” Nick grins. 

She doesn’t say anything to it. Instead, she stares him down until the grin is wiped out of his face.

Nick clears his throat, “Your dad wants to see you. In his office.” 

He eyes her up and down afterward and there’s that fucking grin again. She feels a strong urge to slap it out off his face. 

“I’ll be right there.” She mumbles and is about to close the door when Nick stops her.

“No, he wants to see you now.” 

“Ugh, fine!” She pushes past Nick and stomps away and down the stairs, walks along the hall into the east wing where her father has his office. Nick scrambles to catch up. 

When she opens the door to her father’s office, she bumps right into something firm and that something smells good too. It’s not a smell she’s used to around here. She could pick out the cologne of the people who worked for her dad from a police lineup, and most of the time, they don’t smell that nice. 

“Oh, sorry,” She says out of habit, even though she knows that she’s the princess daughter and she technically doesn’t need to say sorry to anyone but her own father around here. It’s just, she’s never been _that_ kind of girl. She always treats people like she wants to be treated. Dad always said that she got it from her Mom. 

There’s a deep chuckle as she takes a step to the side and she remembers that voice. Remembers the deep sound of a bass. It’s smooth and light. It sounds super nice. 

Looking up, she almost has to clasp her hand over her mouth. 

Dean.

He smirks at her then, but he doesn’t say anything. Because why should he, they all only speak when they are spoken to. Little cowards who read her dad’s mind and do what he says, no fucking questions asked. 

Y/N’s a little sad that Dean’s in here, though. A little sad that he’s one of dad’s little soldiers.

Her dad sees her and clears his throat before he speaks, “Is everything ready for tonight, Y/N?”

“Yes,” She answers and looks around the room. Bobby’s here, and so are a couple of other men. She knows them all. The only new face is Dean.

“Good, I want you to wear something nice, can you do that?” 

“I’ll see.” 

Her father laughs and it sounds uneasy. He hates it when she undermines his authority. But that’s just how she is. He can bet she’s going to find some ugly thing to wear, for sure. 

“Kids, huh?” Her dad says to one of his capos, she knows as Crowley, the weasel. 

The man nods with a chuckle.

The only people in the room who aren’t laughing are Dean and Bobby. 

“You can go now.” Her father says.

“Okay,” She turns around and stomps away, but not without slamming the door shut, for fucking good measure.

While she walks back to her room, she can’t help to think what that was all about? He called her in just to say that she should wear something nice? What the fuck? What happens to phones or texts? She had to walk half a mile to tell him that his party is set up? God, her dad can be such a fucking dick, too. She thinks he’s the biggest dick of them all.

Also what the fuck is Dean doing here? What part does he play?

“Hey,” She hears the voice now as she takes the first step on the stairs that leads up to the bedrooms.

Y/N freezes mid-walk. She knows exactly who the voice belongs to. 

“What?” She turns her head to snap at Dean.

“Just wanted to see if you’re okay,” 

She turns around to see him clutching at the railing looking up at her with a frown on his face.

“Yeah, I am.” 

It’s a lie but it feels like this whole damn life is a lie. She doesn’t belong here in this fucking golden cage, but she doesn’t need to pour her heart out to someone she barely knows, so she bites on her tongue.

Dean snorts, “Yeah, you sound just peachy,” 

She snorts, “I’m sorry, why are you here again? Shouldn’t you be in the room with the big boys? My father will notice you missing and I don’t think he’d like for you to talk with his daughter unsupervised.”

“Eh,” He shrugs and there’s that cocky grin again, “‘M not afraid of your father, and besides, I like taking risks.”

There’s something about the man that stands before her. Something… defiant. He’s like her. They are similar, she realizes. There’s also something else… something she can’t quite put her finger on. He looks absolutely gorgeous in his suit, and his eyes — they are so green, but also dark as they stare at her. There’s a cloud of mystery surrounding him and she knows that she should be alerted, should maybe be careful, but instead, there’s something that draws her to him.

After she notices that she’s probably been staring at him for too long, she clears her throat, “Right,” Y/N says, “I’m okay, and you can return to your stupid meeting.”

Dean doesn’t answer and she turns around to walk up the stairs. Y/N feels his eyes on her all along the way up, but when she turns around on the landing, he’s gone.


	2. Chapter.01

Y/N takes her time to get ready. The party has already started and she hears cars pulling up to the curb outside, hears the doorbell ringing, and doors open to new guests. They’re families of the people who work for her father. Which also means that they are her family, too.

They’re a whole fucking family when she thinks of it. Once they are accepted into the organization, they are treated like they belong.

_ A whole fucking weird bunch of the Brady’s _ , she thinks.

Rummaging through her closet, she fishes out some black skinny jeans. She holds them out, sees the ridiculously large amount of holes in it. She can’t believe that she used to wear them in her late teens. Well, she’s going to figure out if they still fit.

She smiles when she sees that they do. Y/N pulls a big hooded jumper in pastel pink over her bra next, and puts her hair up into a ponytail, before slipping into her sneakers. 

In the bathroom, she applies minimal makeup but paints her lips cherry red. 

That’ll do, she thinks. Her dad will be furious, but eh, she doesn’t care.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


The part of the house she’s in is awfully quiet when she makes her way down from her bedroom. The party is in the back of the house and in their gigantic yard. 

As she walks along the hall, the sound of laughter and chatting gets louder and she takes a deep breath, calming herself down. It’s not her first time attending a family party like this one, but she doesn’t really like people, so. 

Y/N walks out, nodding at familiar faces, but ignores their look of irritation at her outfit, even smirking to herself because she’s accomplished her mission.

When she arrives outside a waiter walks by and she quickly stops him, leaves her hand on his chest and grabs at a full champagne flute. She downs the liquid in one go before she takes another one and downs that too. 

“Great, thanks.” She says and begins to make her way to the front, where she knows her dad is, but before she could reach them, she gets pulled back by her arm. 

She turns to the source and lets out a squeal when she sees her friend Bela. She knew that Bela would be here. It’s Bela’s dad’s goodbye party and god, is she glad that there’s at least one familiar face around here who she can whine to about how hideous these parties always are.

“Good job, babe,” Bela says and elbows her in the ribs. 

“God, Bela, I’m so sick of it.” She sighs.

The other woman chuckles, “Yeah, I can see by the way you’re dressed. You just love to piss him off, don’t you?” Bela knows how rebellious she can be.

She groans, “Don’t even get me started on telling you what happened this afternoon!”

Her friend opens her mouth, but before Bela could ask more, they are interrupted.

“Hey, ladies,”

“Oh no,” Both of the women roll their eyes as Nick approaches. 

Bela whispers to her, “Go on, I’ll hold him back.” Y/N nods at Bela with a knowing look, before she turns on her heels to walk to find her dad. 

As she’s walking away, she hears Bela sneer at Nick and hears Nick muttering something that sounded like  _ bitch  _ under his breath. She doesn’t know if it’s directed at her or Bela, but honestly, she doesn’t really care. 

Walking closer, she sees her dad standing with Bobby and a couple of the capos, as well as Zachariah, the underboss. Dean’s there too. Her heart picks up pace as she notices him. 

“Hey, Uncle Bobby,” She greets the big bear of a man and Bobby’s eyes widen when he sees her outfit.

She looks around and sees her dad rubbing his hand at his temple while Dean presses his lips into a thin line and lowers his face to hide his smirk. 

Bobby wraps her up into a hug, and she lets him. She always liked Bobby’s hugs. 

When Bobby releases her, she turns to her father, “I hope I look nice enough for you, Dad?” 

Her father’s gaze is firm. He doesn’t even bat an eye as he purses his lips into a thin line, but unlike Dean, he’s not smirking behind it.

“K,” She says and looks into the round, “I’ll go and mingle with the others, then.” 

“No,” Her dad says, “Might as well go on with the announcement now that you’re here.” He clinked at the glass he’s holding with the ring on his ring finger. It’s loud enough for the closest people to hear and everyone is whispering hushes as they look at him.

Great, now all eyes are on her too. Not that she can go undetected by the way she’s dressed, but she just absolutely hates attention.

He clears his throat before he begins to speak, “Beloved family. As you all know, our family is gathered together here to say goodbye to one goddamn fine man,” He places his hand on Bobby’s shoulder and Bobby looks down, seemingly embarrassed — or touched, she can’t really read his face. 

Her father goes on, “Bobby here has been the family’s consigliere for thirty years!”

There’s cheering and she too, claps her hands. 

“However, Bobby thinks it’s time to take a step back and we had talked about a successor at lengths, right Bobby?”

“Yes,” Bobby agrees with a nod.

Her father nods back, “It’s top-secret because Bobby and I are the only ones who know it.”

Y/N sees Dean eyeing her, but ignores it because Nick just pushed himself to the front and  _ oh god _ , she hopes it’s not him. 

“Bobby?” Her dad turns to his friend, squeezes at his shoulder, “Do you want to announce it yourself?”

Bobby nods and clears his throat, “Yeah, uh, as you all know, I’m getting way too old for this shit!”

Everyone’s laughing except for her.

“This family is very important to me and as you know, I would never leave if I didn’t have someone in the pipeline that would live up to the family’s expectations. Someone that could adequately fill my shoes.”

Nick’s face is beaming. A smile of a winner, she guesses and she almost has to gag out loud, but is able to hold herself back.

“So, I’ve been searching around and I finally found someone whom I think will bring greatness into the family. I’ve trained him and transferred my knowledge over to him. Ladies and gentlemen,”

Nick is wiggling on his toes, as he straightens his suit jacket while she gnaws on her bottom lip. God, why does Bobby have to stretch it out? Her heart’s in her fucking pants!

“As a symbol, I’d like to give my colt to its next rightful owner,” Bobby takes his colt out of his holster and walks a couple of steps with it until he’s standing right by Dean, he holds out his colt with one hand while his other hand rests on Dean’s shoulder, “Dean Winchester. Make me proud, son!”

_ Oh thank fucking god _ , she exhales audibly. She didn’t notice that she had been holding her breath the whole time.

Y/N looks over to Nick and sees his jaw dropping, sees him pushing himself through the people to get away.

“Thank you,” Dean smiles and takes the colt, quickly letting it disappear into his suit jacket. 

So, his name is Dean Winchester and he’s going to be her father’s new consigliere. She snorts and shakes her head. Her life has just gotten a little more complicated but that’s just typical, isn’t it? She can’t catch a damn break!

The people are still clapping and cheering and her father is shaking Dean’s hand while he signals for the waiter to bring them more drinks. She guesses that she’s off the hook for now. She doubts that her father wants to introduce her to the family in her attire anyway, so she makes her way to the bar. 

Y/N orders herself a shot of tequila and one for Bela as her friend shows up to join her. They down the drinks and both of them squint at the burn. 

“So, that guy looks good, huh?” Bela says, and fucking winks.

“What guy?” She tries to rile up her friend. Of course she knows who Bela’s talking about. She’s not fucking blind.

“Duh! You’ll be living under the same roof with him. Maybe you can get to know him better?”

_ Oh, shit! _ She hasn’t thought about that.

“Oh, please, Bela. Dad will be on my fucking case or better on his if he tries something with me. You remember what he did to Adam, right?.”

“Yeah,” Bela sighs, “You might be right. Doesn’t mean that it can’t happen, huh? If you like him enough, Azazel might even be happy about it since Dean’s his consigliere?”

She squints her eyes at her friend, “You know that we’re talking about my dad, right? For all I know he will probably try to arrange a marriage for me when he thinks it’s time to produce kins for the  _ family _ .”

Bela’s phone rings, interrupting their talk, and her friend looks at the screen, “Shit, he’s here.”

Y/N lifts her eyebrows, “Who’s here?”

“My date. He’s taking me out.”

Right, Bela talked about dating a guy who’s a son to an associate. She stays mum about the name though, saying that she'll reveal as soon as she’s sure it leads somewhere. And honestly, Y/N is jealous that Bela’s allowed to date whomever she wants.

“Oh, have fun!” She says and Bela pulls her into a hug, “Have you seen Nick by the way?”

Bela snorts, “Not after he stormed out after he got butthurt by not being the new consigliere.”

_ Good _ , she thinks,  _ he can stay fucking gone _ .

She orders another shot when Bela leaves and thinks about sticking with wine after. If tonight’s going to be boring, she might as well make it more enjoyable for her, right?

After another two glasses of wine that she downed while she watches people mingling, she takes a step away from the bar to go inside because she needs to use the bathroom. On the steps that lead up to the house, she’s concentrating so much on taking one step at a time so as not to land face down in the tipsy state that she’s in, she bumps into Nick.

“Where are you going?” Nick asks and follows after her. 

Goddammit, she’s not that quick with alcohol in her system.

“Bathroom.” She says and Nick’s faster, so he steps in front, blocking her fucking way.

Y/N annoyingly rolls her eyes and lets out a groan before she pushes past him to break into a run. 

“Come on, Y/N,” He calls after her and hurries to catch up, the clicking of his dress shoes echoing in the hallway. 

“Leave me the fuck alone, Nick!” She growls, and runs a little faster. 

“I just want to talk,”

She turns around so quickly it makes her head spin and Nick stops abruptly, taking a step back as he does, “About what?”

“Don’t you think something’s fishy that your dad didn’t want me as his consigliere?”

Oh god, why should she fucking care?

“Seriously Nick, I need to fucking pee. Maybe you should go ask my dad!”

He looks at her like he’s fucking offended when she should be the one? 

She’s back on her heels and arrives at one of the guest bathrooms when Nick grabs her by her shoulder and makes her turn around. He bends down to her level, his eyes dark and furious. 

“You think that the newcomer will be able to do the job, huh? I’ve been here for fucking years, Y/N! I fucking earned it! I know every little detail of this family.” Nick spits in her face, “I’m the better choice and I’ll get there, mark my fucking words.”

“I’m not fucking scared of your words Nick. If you got beef, go fucking talk to my dad.” She says, in her calmest voice possible. Maybe because she knows that Nick has a gun, and well — she doesn’t.

“No,” Nick chuckles, “I’m telling you, because he trusts you and if you talk to him, tell him what a better choice I would have be—”

“—Hey,” A loud rumbling deep voice rings through the hallway as Dean walks closer to where they are standing. 

There were some more people inside, but they know to look away when there’s trouble unless it concerns them directly. And she’s wondering how long Dean’s been standing there. How much he saw, because it's marble flooring and steps usually echos off on them. Especially when they are wearing dress shoes. But she didn’t hear Dean and she’s usually always aware of her surroundings. 

Dean’s interruption does nothing to scare off Nick, though, who still has a tight grip around her arm. 

“You guys okay?” Dean says as he takes the last couple of steps towards them and she shakes off Nick’s grip with all her strengths. 

“Just let me fucking pee!” She hisses, before she gets into the bathroom and locks herself inside, leaving the men behind.

  
  


____________________________________________________

  
  
  


Dean saw them while they were on the steps and he watched them going inside. Azazel was still rambling on about something that Dean apparently should keep an eye on, but it’s really just fucking annoying. Dean’s good at what he’s doing, not to toot his own horn or anything. The man just doesn’t know how good Dean really is and he has got to show him. He’s done his fucking homework because Bobby has been a fucking great mentor, and he really doesn’t need to listen to a man talking about doing the dirty work, when he has never done any of it himself in his fucking life.

“Excuse me,” Dean says, and leaves Azazel behind, not looking back as he goes.

He’s risking a lot by doing this, he knows, but he just can’t help it. Nick has rub him the fucking wrong way since Dean met him.

Staying a good distance away, he watches as Y/N storms inside, with Nick trailing behind. 

She’s a feisty thing, he has got to give her that. Won’t be intimidated by big scary men, but maybe that’s because she was brought up around them. And he likes that. Likes women who can fight and fend for themselves. It also makes his job easier if he doesn’t always have to look out for her, but also, it just makes his job a lot harder too, because he can’t deny that he thinks she’s fucking cute the way she rebels against her dad by showing up in jeans with too many holes in them, and a big hooded sweater that makes her look like she’s something delicate that wants to hide in a big cocoon. Of course he didn’t miss the red of her lips. It makes him think of things he knows full well he shouldn’t be thinking.

Dean waited until the last minute to jump in, using his loud voice to interrupt them and it was a good distraction because Y/N could tear her arm from Nick’s grip and get into the bathroom, slamming the door shut in their faces.

“What do you fucking want?” Nick sneers at him and Dean thinks it’s cute how the man is fuming just because he’s not Azazel’s favorite.

He chuckles, “I want you to get your dirty hands off her,” 

“Yeah?” Nick hisses, “Who told you that she doesn’t want it, huh? She and I know each other man, we’re just playing around.” 

“It didn’t look like that to me.” Dean shrugs.

Nick laughs, throwing his head back and all, and Dean really wonders how Azazel can keep that dude around for so long. He’s obviously not right in the head. 

“Dude, she likes it fucking rough alright? We tease each other all the time.”

“NO WE DON’T!” Y/N screams from the other side of the bathroom door, and Dean lowers his face, chuckles to himself silently before he pulls himself together again to glare at Nick.

He raises one of his eyebrows, “You done here?”

“Fuck you,” Nick scoffs and Dean watches him reaching out a hand as if he wants to punch him. Dean’s quicker though, grabs it and pushes Nick against the wall, pins the man there with Dean’s forearm on the man’s shoulder blades, while he twists one of Nick’s arms behind his back.

“Yeah?” Dean whispers close to Nick’s ear. 

The man is sputtering curses under his breath, “You think you’re tough, huh? One day, you’ll slip, Dean. One day you’ll fucking make a mistake and you know what? It’s me who will be in your shoes, it’s me who’s going to punish you for your fucking mistakes. Mark my words.”

Dean lowers his head to Nick’s ear and chuckles darkly, “I’d like to see you try, Nick, I really would. But you know what? I’ll crush your bones first. And if you don’t fucking get your dirty hands off of Y/N, I’ll cut them loose and let you fucking bleed out. How’s that sound? Huh? Will you leave her alone, huh?”

“Fuck you!”

Dean twists a little harder, making the man cry out, “Will you fucking behave, Nick?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay! Fuck! Let go of me!”

“Good,” Dean chuckles darkly, pulling Nick away from the wall. He makes an attempt to straighten Nick’s suit, pats his shoulders and cheeks, “Now, we do try to behave like civilized people don’t we? We’re one family Nick, no fucking room for petty fights, okay?” Dean’s palm slaps lightly at Nick’s cheek twice more.

“Yeah,” Nick agrees, but Dean knows it’s just for show. 

He nods, “Good, now go get lost.” 

To Dean’s surprise, Nick doesn’t put up a fight. Instead, he flips Dean both his fingers before turning around and walking away.

He exhales and leans himself back against the wall, closes his eyes, and mutters a  _ fuck _ . Maybe he was a little too rough on Nick. It’s his fucking first day as the official consigliere and he’s already spewing death threats. This is just going great, doesn’t it? It’s a whole fucking new environment for him. He knows that everyone has a gun around here, but nobody really uses it because it’s an unspoken rule. That’s why he’s not really concerned about threatening Nick. If something would have happened to the family consigliere, Nick would be shot dead before he could even blink. So at least Dean got the family supporting him because he’s higher in ranks than fucking Nick. That, and he got Bobby’s blessing. 

When Dean’s about to push himself away from the wall, he hears the lock of the bathroom clicking open.

He watches the door open up a tiny bit. The light of the bathroom spills out into the dimly lit hallway. However, Y/N still stays inside. 

He suppresses a grin with his head leaned against the wall as he waits patiently.

“Is he gone?” She whispers from inside. He pushes himself away from the wall, seeing if he can spot a peek of her face looking out.

Dean chuckles when he doesn't see her, “Yeah, he’s gone. You’re safe to come out.”

He stands there and watches as she finally pokes her head out from between the door and its frame, and feels a little offended that she seems like she isn’t quite trusting him. But that’s good too, he thinks, good that she doesn’t trust anyone. It’s an instinct he knows is good for survival in the family she grew up in, an instinct he hopes she’ll never lose.

“‘K,” She says meekly, and is still hesitating at first before she slowly emerges. Y/N looks around again, for good measure, “He’s gone?”

“I heard him stomping out and shut the front door so hard the whole house shook, so yeah, I guess he’s gone.”

“Good,” She breathes out and Dean can hear a sniff. She’s probably been crying in there and it kind of makes him angrier at Nick.

Dean reaches out, places his hand on her shoulder and he feels her tensing beneath his touch, “Don’t worry, I’m here.” He doesn’t elaborate on what his words mean. 

_ He’s here.  _

That’s because he is? He’s here to help, to protect. He’s here when she needs to chase boys away like that stupid Nick. He’s here, planted in the family and he’s not going anywhere soon, hopefully.

“‘K,” Y/N nods, because she understands. He knows that she does, can feel it in the ease of her body. She exhales again before she starts to walk to the back where the party’s still in full swing, “I need a drink.”

He smirks with a shake of his head as he follows her out.

She aims straight for the bar, pushing herself through the crowd and everyone’s making room for her. Of course they do, because she’s the fucking princess around here. Dean follows and they part for him too. He guesses that he has some privilege now, or maybe it’s just the breadth of his shoulders. 

Dean joins her and orders himself a whiskey as he watches her sip on her wine. She tells the tender to leave the bottle here. He guesses that she has great plans for tonight and he’s not really a fan of that plan, but what can he do. He remembers seeing her downing shots before and she had champagne earlier, too. Her head’s gonna hurt like a son of a bitch, he just knows.

“What?” She asks as she notices him staring.

“Nothing,” He grins, “You just seem to be okay after the incident.”

“It’s nothing that hasn’t happened before,” She snorts, “Nick’s harmless. He’s all bark and no bite.”

Dean lifts his eyebrow as he takes a sip from his tumbler, “Is that so?” He asks, a little more than irritated actually. Especially at her statement that it happened before because these things should definitely not happen. And it won’t anymore. Not on his fucking watch.

“Yeah,” Y/N shrugs as if it’s no fucking big deal when he knows it fucking is.

“So, you’re telling me that underneath your sweater you don’t have bruises from the way his hand dug into your arm?” He challenges her, but it’s really just a way for him to make her notice that Nick’s not as harmless as she thinks he is. And Dean hates that he knows the son of a bitch fucking hurt her.

She lowers her face, doesn’t say anything to it because it’s true, and Dean doesn’t actually need a verbal confirmation to know that she was hurt. Her face says enough. He can’t imagine how hard her life must have been to grow up with being exposed to angry and scary men from the age of three. 

“Why are you here?” She lifts her face to ask and Dean frowns at the question. His heart thumps. For a second, he thought she knew but then she looked away again, which shows that she was only curious.

“Because I needed a job?”

Y/N chuckles, “No, why are you standing here with me when my father is over there.” She lifts her finger to point at her father and his entourage.

Oh. Well, he doesn’t  _ really _ have an explanation for that.

“Did he send you, huh? Did he tell you to talk some sense into me? To stop acting like a spoiled brat and join his fucking  _ business _ ?” Her voice is cracking. She sounds fragile and it’s fucking not fair because it wakes his protective instincts inside of him. He can literally feel it pricking underneath his skin.

“You don’t seem spoiled to me,” He says, smiling a little. 

He says it because it’s true. She really doesn’t. Someone who’s spoiled wouldn’t look past the things Nick did to her, wouldn’t have a rebellious nature because someone who’s spoiled would get everything they desire and would be content with it. He knows that she would get everything she wants and honestly, he’s surprised that she doesn’t want it. 

She snorts, “You’d be the first to think that.” Taking another sip of her drink, she speaks again, “So, did he tell you to come over or not?”

“Nope,” Dean answers truthfully, “I’m still allowed to keep my own mind around here, y’know?” He smirks, “I wanted to make sure you’re okay.” 

“Oh,” She breathes out, “That’s new.”

“What’s new?”

“Nobody  _ ever _ checks if I’m okay.”

There are little pinpricks he feels in his heart. It must have been absolutely horrible to grow up in a men’s world. He wonders what Azazel thinks about having an only daughter. What he thinks about having a daughter instead of a son who could take over. She sure as hell won’t be able to, he knows that, the men wouldn’t accept her. However, he doubts that she wants to.

“I’m not like the others,” He shrugs and pushes himself from the bar, “Right, now that I see that you’re okay, I gotta go talk to the big boys.” Before he goes, he lowers himself, bends down to be on her level. Dean leans closer, his mouth inches from her ear, “You are okay, right?” He whispers before he breathes in, smells a hint of perfume, smells her shampoo. 

“I am.” She whispers back and Dean stands up straight, smiles a reassuring smile and nods before he walks off to join Azazel and Bobby.

  
  
  


____________________________________________________

  
  
  
  


Y/N stays at the bar and downs the remaining wine in her glass, pours herself another right after, and she can see Dean already halfway turning around to probably tell her to go slow on the alcohol but she sends him a glare. Dean sighs before he walks on. Talk about being spoiled.

When she lifts her arm to take the glass, she feels a pain in her arm, and Dean’s right about that too. She’s hurt. Nick hurt her, but she let him and what does that say about her, really?

With her full glass in her hand, she tries to blend into the crowd, and talks to a couple of people she knows because she has to keep up the facade. There are a couple of soldiers who are working under Crowley. They know not to talk to her but she thinks that maybe, with a little alcohol, they all can get over the fact that she’s forbidden fruit around here.

They are hesitant at first when she steps into their round, but to her surprise, they really talk and they joke around while one of them gets her another glass and then another. She’s way over tipsy now because she’s standing on that outer edge of being drunk and if she’s not careful, she’ll slip over and fall into the realms of being pissed. 

Tomorrow morning will be a bitch, she knows that, but that’s a problem for tomorrow.

She’s in the middle of the soldiers, all of them taller than she is, while they chat and generally have a good time away from the big boys and adult conversation. She feels light-headed and giggles when Ed tells a dad joke. And then she feels it, feels an arm sneaking around her waist, feels someone’s broad chest behind her and she leans in. It must be either Max or Aiden because those were the ones standing closest to her.

Y/N leans her head on his chest, his hand spans around her stomach, holding her steady and presses her closer to him, balancing them both. And she’s thankful for that because her legs will give out anytime soon. There’s breathing next to her ear, and then she smells it, smells the cologne that triggers her memory. 

_ Oh, no. _

Suddenly, her surroundings come crashing in. She hears laughter and chatter but not from the group of the boys. No, they are all quiet and they all look away. 

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough to drink, princess?” 

Her eyes widened when she realizes that she’s right about who it is.

_ Fuck. _

“Come on, let’s get you inside.” Dean’s arm is tight around her middle as he turns with her, “Boys, I’ll have a word with you later.” He tells the others and she looks back to see them all disperse. 

_ Fucking cowards.  _

He walks along with her to the steps that lead into the house. 

“My dad! You can’t tell h—” She says and she tries to look back at the crowd but her eyes are hazy.

“—Don’t worry, he knows. He sent me to take care of you.” 

“He sent you?”

“Said it’s one of my duties now.”

“Me?”

“Your temper, apparently. Said I should get that in check. You like to snarl at him — at everyone actually.”

She snorts out a laugh, “Good luck,”

Once inside, Dean lifts her up over his shoulder, his hands are firm on the back of her thighs as she hears a dark chuckle, “Oh, sweetheart, I don’t need luck. By the time I’m done with you, you’re going to purr.” 

  
  
  


____________________________________________________

  
  
  


Dean carries her up to her bedroom, his hand steady on her thigh. It’s true what he told her. Her dad really sent him. But maybe because Dean wasn’t really discrete in watching her drinking one glass after the other. She doesn’t look like she can take a lot of alcohol and the stupid boys just brought her more. It seems like Azazel doesn’t even care that she could be vulnerable to the boys in his organization. It fucking irks Dean. 

The boys and she tried to be sneaky, hiding behind the big tree, but he saw it, he always knows, and that’s a trait really. He wouldn’t have this job if he would pay half of the attention he’s paying to notice things. 

When he reaches the door to her bedroom, it feels like she’s sleeping on his shoulders. She feels a little heavier too from the slumber of her body. Dean chuckles as he pushes the door open. As he said, she’d be purring, and he’s not exactly wrong. She’s too drunk and too tired to put up a fight. And that makes him angry too. She of all people should be aware not to fucking let her guard down around fucking vultures of men. They’re not at all nice, and he knows that because he deals with them day in day out. 

Dean crouches down and sits her on the bed, her eyes are heavy, lids fluttering open and close. He places a hand on her cheek, knuckles travel over her soft skin, “You okay?” 

“Mmmhh.” 

He chuckles. Apparently she’s not really okay, but she'll be. He guesses that she will swear not to drink a drop once she wakes up in the morning. 

“Wait here, okay, I’ll go get water and Tylenol.”

He doesn’t wait for her answer, pushes himself up on his feet and walks to the bathroom. He knows that there’s a drug cabinet in every bedroom, finds water in her mini-fridge (that’s right, all the rooms come with that too), and walks back to her. 

Crouching down, he unscrews the bottle and when he’s about to hold that out for her, her hand’s on his. 

“Dean— I—,” 

She didn’t have to say more because he knows. He just fucking knows from the way the color drains from her face. He scoops her up and runs to her bathroom, places her on her knees and pushes up the toilet lid fast enough in time for her to throw up into. 

If someone would have told him five years ago that he’d be working for one of the biggest mob family in the States, he’d say, yeah, most probably because he fucking worked hard to get here. If they would have told him that his job would involve him keeping the hair out of the mob boss’s daughter’s face while she empties her stomach into the toilet bowl, Dean would have laughed into their faces.

Dean’s here now, isn’t he? So he’s going to do the best he can. He rubs her back with one hand while holding her hair back with the other, whispering soothing words to her ear because she’s crying now, too. Everything’s just fucking peachy, really. 

“Shhhh, it’s okay, let it out.” He hushes, and tries not to breathe in too much of the stink. It’s not the worst thing he smelled in his life and it’s actually not that bad compared to all the disgusting smells he experienced in his life. It’s certainly much better than the smell of a corpse that’s been stewing in the water for way too long. 

“I’m sorry,”

She’s sobbing and it almost breaks his heart. She’s too pure, not the bitch he first thought she would be. Not some fucking spoiled princess because if she was, she wouldn’t exactly apologize to him over and over.

“It’s okay, I’m here.” He tries to calm her down.

After a while, the retching stops and he was able to pull her into a sitting position, leaning her back against the tub. 

Dean gets up when he sees that she’s able to sit on her own, finds a fresh cloth and runs it under the cold tab. 

He returns and crouches down, rubs the cloth over her face, brushes at the mascara stains and the remainder of her cherry lips comes off. 

“Why are you doing this?” Her speech is slurred and he thinks it’s cute, even if he knows that he shouldn’t think that. 

Her lips are swollen from his rubbing, looking really kissable right now and something stirs in him, but he ignores it, at least he’s trying his best to.

“Because it’s my job,” Dean answers before he gets up. 

He leaves the cloth on the sink and takes her toothbrush, squirts paste on it, and walks back to her. 

“Say aaah,” He says as he chuckles and holds the toothbrush to her mouth.

Y/N presses her lips into a thin line as she frowns. 

_ Definitely fucking cute _ , he thinks.

With an audible growl, she snatches the brush from his hand, “No, that’s not your job.” She says before she begins to brush her teeth.

“Look, I understand that a consigliere’s job shouldn’t involve these things, but your dad is testing me, see if I am worthy.”

“You really want this position, huh?” She reaches out a hand while her toothbrush is still stuck in her mouth and Dean grabs at her to help her up.

Spitting into the sink, she looks at him through the mirror and his eyes meet hers.

“Not my fave position, but yeah,” He grins, and he knows it’s all cocky and bravado. 

Dean’s phone rings when she’s about to say something. He knows that because she was gasping after he dropped that line.

He chuckles before he walks out into her room to take the call, and she closes the bathroom door behind him. 

Her dad calls to ask how things are and Dean explains how he found her and that he’ll make sure she’s alright before he’ll be out again. 

Just when he hangs up, she comes stumbling out of the bathroom and Dean almost didn’t catch her on time. He steadies her, walks her to her bed, looking away when she gets out of her pants and pulls her hoodie over her head. Dean stares down to his shoes, tries not to even think about how she might look underneath because he’s not fucking allowed to.

“You can look now,” She mumbles before he turns and sees her yawn as she settles into her bed. Dean’s cheek turns colorful, blood rushing to his head when he sees her. 

He pulls the cover over her, hands her the Tylenol and water which she couldn’t swallow before, and watches her gulp it down. 

“Will you be okay? Need anything else?” He strokes over her head, smoothing her hair back and lets his knuckles travel over her cheeks before he pulls his hand away, balling his hand into fists at the realization.

He should definitely  _ not _ be doing this.

Her eyelids are heavy and she closes them, “Can you stay until I’m sleeping? Please?”

Wow, his heart wasn’t broken before but damn well is now. She’s asking him to stay and Dean has a feeling that usually, nobody does. 

“Yeah,” He says, “Sure.” He sits down on the edge of the bed and she curls up on her side, her forehead touches his thigh. 

“Will you go back to the party?” Her voice is a mumble.

“Yeah, I will.”

“Good,” She licks her lips, “Tell Bobby I’m sorry for leaving early.”

“I’m sure he’ll understand and you’ll get to see him more now that he has more time.”

“That’s what they all say. Nobody really has time for me.”

“Is that so?” He asks but when there’s no answer, he turns his head to look at her face that’s now pressed to his thigh, her breathing is even, she has already fallen asleep.

Dean chuckles, shakes his head because he can’t believe that he became a fucking babysitter to the boss’ daughter. But on the other hand, that’s good too, he thinks. Good that it’s him and not fucking Nick who found her because they all know that Nick wouldn’t have gotten her to bed. At least not the way Dean does. 

Jesus, he gets worked up just thinking about what could have happened if it was Nick and not him. 

He places his hand on her head, strokes her hair some more, and waits until she’s sleeping deeply. 

After he makes perfectly sure that she’s sleeping soundly, he bends down to place a kiss on her temple. He couldn’t  _ not _ do it. Dean leaves and makes his way back to the party. He has a couple of boys he still needs to take care of.


	3. Chapter.02

Y/N wakes up to the sound of frantic knocking on her door. She takes a moment to blink the sleep out of her eyes. Takes a moment to let her mind settle — to realize where she fucking is. The knocking doesn’t let down and there’s a sharp pain in her temple, it travels to the back of her head. She feels like absolute shit. Feels like a truck ran her over in her sleep — multiple times. 

Did she really sleep, though? It doesn’t feel like she did.

_ Oh god, she’s never going to drink again.  _

Upon realizing that she’s in her own bed, she takes the opportunity to enjoy the warmth a little longer and curls herself up into a fetal position. She wraps herself up with the covers some more, bathing herself in the comfy cocoon and ignores whoever stands outside. Perhaps when she doesn’t answer, they’ll go away? They usually don’t but maybe today’s her lucky day?

As she lies there and breathes in the smell of her sheets, her eyes shoot open when she notices the lingering smell of a man’s cologne. The presence of the faint smell still sticks to her bed. She closes her eyes, breathing it in some more.

Dean. 

_ Oh god _ , that’s Dean’s cologne. 

He was here last night, wasn’t he? She absolutely loves the smell of his cologne, it smells heavenly. Woody, masculine, a little spicy, and strangely, it smells  _ warm _ . The scent makes her want to wrap herself up in it. When she’s about to close her eyes again, there’s more knocking. Louder this time.

“Y/N! Are you up?”

_ Ugh. _

She knows that voice. It’s Max, the soldier under Crowley. Instead of answering, she closes her eyes again, letting the scent of the cologne wrap her up in a warm embrace. Maybe she can fall asleep again. That’d be nice.

“I know you’re in there, Y/N. Your father wants to talk to you.”

Groaning out, she rolls her eyes as she calls out to the man standing in front of her door, “He can call me!”

Max is snorting out loudly, “Yeah, right,” He clears his throat before he speaks, “Listen, he sent me to get you. You know what happens when he doesn’t get what he wants, don’t you? Do you really want me to suffer just because you’re too hungover to go face him?”

She groans some more, because she hates when he’s right. Yeah, she doesn’t really want anyone to suffer her dad’s wrath if possible — maybe except of Nick. Her dad can be a real pain in the ass, but that’s also maybe where she got her temper from.

“Tell him I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

“No can do, Y/N. He wants to see you now.”

She frowns. What does it mean? Her dad wants to see her  _ now _ ? Like  _ this _ ? 

“Y/N,” Max gets louder, “Either you open that door now, or Imma have to go in and drag you out.”

_ Ugh. _

Groaning she gets up, “Fine!”

Looking around her room for the traces of her clothes that she discharged carelessly last night, she can’t find them on the floor, but to her surprise, they are lying neatly folded on top of her dresser. 

The color in her cheeks rises up. Dean must have done it. How embarrassing is that? He not only helped her to bed, but also folded her clothes.

_ Oh god _ . The memories start to come back. She threw up. She really did, didn’t she? And Dean rubbed her back through it.

She squints her eyes at the memory. Well, if she looks at it like that, folding clothes is less embarrassing than seeing her puke, so. 

“Y/N! I’m counting!” Max shouts, and she can hear it in the man’s voice that he’s getting more and more impatient. He’s probably worried about her dad being angry at him for not getting her soon enough. Always the good fucking soldiers, aren’t they?

“My God, Max! Calm your tits! I’m getting dressed!” She shouts back at him while she walks into her walk-in closet and pulls the next best shirt she can find over her head and gets out some sweats from a drawer.

Before she walks to the door, she takes a look in the mirror. Her hair’s in disarray, sticking out of the now loose ponytail in all different places. Her lipstick is off her lips at least, only a faint trace at the corner of her mouth and maybe she should wash her face and brush her teeth before seeing Dad but ugh, she just doesn’t care enough about it right now.

Y/N opens up the door right as Max holds up a hand to knock again. He lowers his arm and stares at her with amusement in his eyes. 

“Shut up,” She scoffs in passing as she starts to walk ahead and down the stairs, leaving the man to keep up with her. 

She knocks once when she arrives at her father's office and waits until she hears him call for her to come in.

As soon as she steps into the door, she almost stops in her tracks. Well, she knew that her father was waiting for her, but she didn’t know that he’s having a fucking meeting with all his minions, and of course there has to be Dean who’s smirking as soon as he sees the state she’s in. She rolls her eyes back to her head theatrically and stares back at Max, scolding at him with her eyes for not telling her and the dude just shrugs as he tries his best not to laugh out loud. 

“Oh, the princess graces us with her presence!” Benny says in a mocking tone of voice, “You look beautiful as ever.”

Y/N sends Benny a glare, but quickly ignores him to train her eyes to her father, maybe kind of pleading for him to stick up to her, maybe she hopes that he would talk his men down for mocking her, but of course he doesn't. He never stood up for her, it actually shouldn’t surprise her anymore.

“Had a little too much to drink, princess?” Benny goes on.

Dean is coughing audibly, interrupting Benny and all of a sudden, all eyes are on him and not on her anymore.

“Sorry,” Dean says as he looks around, his gaze lingers on hers for a fraction longer, as if he wants to reassure her and it works, she knows and she’s fucking thankful.

“Right, Y/N,” Her father starts to speak and looks from Dean to her, “I want you to take some time off from work to make the transition into the family business easier.”

“But—”

“Y/N, you didn’t give me an answer so I’ll answer for you.” The gaze of her dad on her is fierce. As if he wants to say that she shouldn’t dare disrespect him in front of his men like she often does.

“I have to do inventory in the next couple of days,” She says and sighs before she adds, “At least give me that. It’s a part of the family business too?”

Well, it’s not a lie. She had planned to do it and it’s just convenient that it could give her some more days of still having her own thing to do other than the other things that she has zero interest in doing.

“Jo could do it,” Her father suggests.

“I’d rather do it on my own.” She states firmly, putting her foot down.

Her dad clears his throat, “Okay, start today, we’ll be ready to go in an hour.”

She doesn’t say anything to that, doesn’t ask why he has to go in at all, because of course he does. It’s his workplace, too. Work. If one can call it that. She wonders what her work will be. Probably something boring, reading through contracts and filing them out. She’d rather keep working in the restaurant. It’s not like he  _ really  _ needs her? It’s more like he wants someone he can trust next to him with making decisions and she can still do that while working in the restaurant, at least part-time. She doesn’t really see why she has to stop. She’s going to bring that up, see what her father thinks about it. It’s a win-win for both of them. The best of both worlds, really.

“‘K,” Y/N says after a long pause, and turns on her heels to leave. 

He wants her to be ready in an hour, probably thinking the sooner she starts, the sooner she’ll finish. Little does he know that she’ll fucking make sure to count everything three fucking times. 

  
  
  


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Dean saw her before she even registered him as she barged into the room. Half of her ponytail hanging down loosely around her face, leftover mascara still smeared around her eyes because he didn’t manage to rub it all off. He has to look down so as not to chuckle out loud.

She was cranky and obviously upset, and he hopes that she isn’t too hungover. He tried to counter it with Tylenol last night and honestly, he hoped that they helped. When Azazel called for Max to go get her, Dean wanted to stand up and jump right in, telling him that he would go instead, but it’s really not his place when he thinks about it and he fucking has to play his part so he sat back and chews on the inside of his cheek until it feels raw.

His eyes wandered to her shirt, to the edge of the bruise that was clearly visible on her upper arm, and there was a weird feeling in his stomach. He could literally feel the anger towards Nick rise inside of him, could feel it creeping up his spine. Dean had to fucking hold himself together so as not to break the fucking pen that’s resting between his fingers. 

And the princess comment coming from Benny? Well, Dean was not surprised because Benny’s a total chauvinist, but Azazel didn’t even bat an eye, which is more alarming to him. The man had no intention whatsoever in defending his own daughter from his own fucking men. Dean felt a little sick and honestly, he pities her for growing up the way she did. The mob is not a great place for a woman to be growing up in.

So, Dean did what he thought best, he coughed loudly and cleared his throat audibly to give her something to hold on to, to break the fucking awkward moment.

He had to laugh when she stood her ground, of course only silently to himself. Dean knows not to overstep his boundaries, not to shake that wall he built up around him, even though he fucking likes taking risks, and he obviously will — but not now.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


Y/N’s like clockwork and she is ready before they are. 

Dean’s sitting in the car precisely an hour after the incident as he drives the King and Benny to the restaurant, with the princess sitting shotgun. The men were sitting in the back, discussing a shipment arrival and he would have loved to eavesdrop but she’s distracting him by watching him, thinking that Dean wouldn’t know, but he does. He always does. He’s smirking to himself because every time he would turn his head to meet her eyes, she would look away and out of the window. He knows that she’s hiding the rising of color in her cheeks. 

_ Absolutely adorable little thing. _

He parks the car at the reserved spot outside, which is a couple of yards away from the main entrance of the restaurant and they all make their way inside through the front when Dean notices a car speeding towards them at an unusually high speed. It moves fast. Too fucking fast for Dean’s liking.

Dean reacts on instinct. His feet pick up speed as soon as she rounded up the corner of the hood of the car and he turns his head to should out for Azazel and benny to  _ fucking move _ to the side while he jumps towards her, taking a leap, stretching himself as far as he could. And he already thinks that it’s not enough, that there’s no way he can reach her, no matter how hard he tries, but to his surprise, it’s enough, it’s fucking enough for his hand to grab her shoulder and then he feels her body alongside his as he pulls her close. They land awkwardly on the hard pavement with him taking most of the fall and they roll along it out of the path of the oncoming car. His arms are wrapped protectively around her. 

The car doesn’t slow down when it gets closer, but it does get the curb just right to not crash into their car with only a hair to save and is already speeding away faster than Dean could blink. He can’t see the license plate because there was none to fucking see.

_ Goddammit! _

“You okay?” He looks down at Y/N beneath him and he gets on his knees as not to crush her. 

She nods her head but her eyes are wide. They are so close, he can feel her soft curves, her breasts, can fucking feel her heartbeat pressed into his own chest. But he has to behave, he knows.

“Good,” Dean mutters under his breath as he nods his head, his face still only inches from hers and god, it would be too easy to just move closer, so easy to press his lips on hers. He wondered since last night how they would feel. He bets they are fucking soft and knowing that he’s right makes his head spin.

He blinks a couple of times, shakes his head too, for good measure, in order to get the thought out of his head. Dean’s pulled back to reality when he hears Benny groan a couple of feet behind them and just like that, the moment is over.

Quickly, he moves off of her and grabs her to pull her up with him. She’s all flustered and it’s fucking cute when she’s like that, he can’t lie. 

After Dean composes himself, he looks around him, “You guys okay?” He asks, and sends Y/N a nod before he tilts his head back to see Azazel and Benny both brushing the dust and dirt from their suits.

“Yeah, did you see the license?” Azazel asks. The man doesn’t sound happy at all, but that’s understandable.

“No, sir,”

Benny looks around, sees people watching them. “Let’s go in,” He storms past them and disappears inside with Azazel following suit.

It blows Dean’s fucking mind that Azazel doesn’t even care if his own fucking daughter is okay. Didn’t stop to ask or even look at her!

She looks frightened, still shocked he assumes because she wraps her arms tightly around herself. Dean places his hand on both her upper arms, strokes it to kind of calm her down, “You sure you’re okay, princess?”

There’s a glare from her upon hearing him call her the name Benny used.

“Don’t call me that,” She scoffs.

“Why? You are the King’s daughter, that technically makes you a princess.” He smirks because he tries to cheer her up. Maybe it helps, he doesn’t know, but he can swear that he feels her muscle easing beneath the palms of his hands, “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


Dean leaves the HQ late tonight as he has had a couple of meetings that were longer than he anticipated and he’s already late for the next one with his supervisor. He grabs the files he prepared for Naomi and rushes out the usually dark hallway of the restaurant's back door. Tonight, though. Tonight the hallway isn’t really dark because there’s light spilling out of the storage room. 

He carefully places his file on the floor by the door and draws his gun on instinct as he walks closer. With one finger firmly around the trigger, Dean places his other hand on the knob, turns it, and ducks his head as he opens it a little more.

Dean’s heart picks up speed. It always does when he doesn’t know what to expect of a situation. It’s a good thing, he’s been told. It keeps him alert, keeps him focused.

He opens the door just enough to peek inside, being as silent as he can. There are so many scenarios going through his head of what he may find in there. A corpse, intruders, some of his men being tortured, just anything normal people don’t think about really, because he knows how fucked up this mob life is. 

His eyes widen when he sees who it is. He lets out a soft chuckle before lowering his gun, placing it back into the holster around his shoulder beneath his suit jacket. 

Y/N is standing with her back against him. In one hand she holds a clipboard while she rifles through some bean bags on the shelf with her other hand.

“Hey,” Dean says and he thinks it’s loud enough but to his surprise, she doesn’t budge.

He takes another step further in, is now close enough for him to reach out and places his hand on her shoulder. She jumps up with a gasp, her back still facing him and her body goes rigid underneath his touch. Dean notices her fumbling with something. Her hand goes inside the pocket of her apron on the front, and before he knows it, she turns around making Dean stare into a barrel of a gun. Her eyes are wide open, looking at him with a frightened stare. 

“Woah, careful there, princess!” Dean holds his hands up in defense, his palms spread wide for her to see that he’s unarmed.

“Jesus fucking Christ! Goddammit! Fuck!” She shouts out and it’s fucking loud, “You scared the shit out of me, Dean!” She’s still shouting as she places her gun back into the apron and takes out her earphones. 

Ah, that must be why she didn’t hear him. He did not notice the wireless in-ear headphones. And he laughs, because that little princess can swear like a goddamn sailor. Not that he minds, thinks it’s kind of adorable, actually.

When she looks at him again, it’s with the grumpy creases between her eyebrows and Dean raises his one eyebrow to match hers, “You have a gun?”

“Yeah, dad came by and gave it to me today after what happened.” 

She looks down at her pocket, the heavy gun drags the apron down, he can see the mark around her neck from where she tied it.

Dean frowns a little, just for the effect, “Do you even know how to handle a gun, princess?”

“It’s not hard, is it?” She shrugs, “I just pull the trigger and bam, you’re dead.”

He snorts out a laugh and the laughter gets louder. However, it dies down when he sees how she glares at him. And she’s pouting too. 

_ Goddammit _ , it makes him weak.

“Right, I’ll take you to the gun range one of these days but I gotta run now, okay? Do you need me to drive you home?”

She crouches down to grab at the clipboard that has fallen to the floor. When she’s standing back upright, she looks at him with tired eyes, “No, I’ll finish this shelf, I’ll be here a while.” She looks up to the shelf which is stacked to the ceiling. And it’s only one of many shelves here.

“Right,” Dean nods, and he wants to stay to help but he knows that he can’t, “I have a meeting, but maybe if you still need a ride in about three hours’ time, just let me know, okay?”

Y/N flashes him a smile, even though it’s a weak one. One that says that she’s exhausted. Maybe not even because of the inventory she’s doing. Dean guesses that it’s more because her life’s fifty shades of fucked up and he totally understands it.

“I’ll see you, princess.” He says, but she’s already not listening to him, has returned to her list and has put her earphone in her ears while she trains her eyes on the clipboard.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


Dean parks his car closest to the door into the abandoned warehouse. It’s far on the outskirts of the city. The drive here alone took him almost an hour even with the little traffic on the way. He nods at the people guarding the property, making sure to look up to the roof and nod at the sniper up there too, just to be on the safe side. 

One of the men opens the door for him, letting him in and the stink of the place fills his nostrils. He doesn’t understand why they have set up their HQ here, can’t understand how someone can be here longer than an hour tops. The place used to be a meth lab, the stink of the chemicals still lingers in the air.

As he walks ahead, he can see the big table, can see the woman standing behind it, her arms crossed over her chest as she watches Dean approach.

“You’re late, Winchester.” 

“Well,” Dean shrugs as he reaches the table and drops the file in front of Naomi, his supervisor, “I’m happy to see you too, boss.”

Naomi chuckles at that, but Dean rolls his eyes for fucking good measure.

“Did you get your panties in a knot, Dean?” Naomi asks with one eyebrow raised. 

“Oh, don’t give me that!”

“Give you what?”

The woman acts like nothing fucking happened and it gets his blood boiling. He hates being played and she should have told him her plans. All Dean hears is how good he is and how they don’t want to lose him when all they do is fuck with his life.

“You had one of our guys almost run me fucking over, Naomi! What was that all about, huh?”

His supervisor pulls her brows together, as if she still doesn’t fucking get it. Dean sighs audibly, groaning out in frustration too, but he keeps on glaring at her. 

After a long pause, Naomi inhales and exhales loudly, snorting as she goes, “Alright, fine! How did you know it was us?” 

“Oh, please!” Dean’s eyes almost hurt from rolling them so far back into his head, “I would notice our people from fucking miles away! You almost killed us all!”

“We only had one target,” Naomi says matter of factly.

“Yeah, but there was me and her involved!” Dean growls. He tries fucking hard not to go off.

“Her? Who is her?”

“The King’s daughter.”

Naomi laughs. It’s loud and sharp, “Why should we care about her safety? She’s involved as much as he is.”

“She isn’t!” Dean growls, “She’s fucking innocent. Look at the documents in the goddamn file!” Dean points his chin towards the file, loose sheets spilling out from the holder.

Naomi takes them out, scans through them. She doesn’t look up to him when she speaks, “Do you, by any chance, feel something for her, Dean? I need to know because I  _ will  _ pull you out.”

“Me?” Dean frowns and feels a little offended that his boss doesn’t think that he can be professional, “Nah. Don’t you dare pull me out. I’m the best and you know it.”

Naomi’s gaze is firm on his. She nods, “That’s why I need you to stay focussed, Dean. I need you to get the information we need to bring this whole family down. I can’t let your heart rule your head.”

Dean snorts, “It won’t. But if you could stop trying to kill me, that’d be great!”

Naomi crosses her arms over her chest, “You’re right. You’re the best and I don’t want you hurt or dead. Be careful, okay?”

“I will.” Dean answers and already, he’s turning on his heels as he makes his way out of the warehouse, feeling somewhat pissed and grumpy. 

Fuck this shit. Naomi is right. Dean fucking knows that she is. She didn’t need to remind him about his feelings, though. 

Don’t let your heart rule your head. 

Ugh.

Whatever. 

  
  


*

  
  


Dean makes sure to drive by the restaurant on his way back. Even parks his car and gets out to look in the back of the restaurant, see if the lights in the storage room are still on, but she’s already gone. He hopes that she got home alright.

When he arrives at the mansion, he parks his car in the garage and makes his way from the underground parking up to his room.

It’s already late and the house is dead quiet. Dean tries not to make too much noise as he tiptoes up the stairs. 

There’s light spilling out of her bedroom as he reaches the landing and Dean can not  _ not _ stop and check how she’s doing.

He knocks at the door, just once, because anything more would be too loud and too suspicious when that’s something he’s trying to avoid. The walls have eyes and ears around here, and even if they don’t, it’s what he always has to assume in his profession of his. Dean should not even think of doing that, knocking and all, and he’s already risking a lot, he doesn’t need to wake up the whole house and everyone in it while he’s at it. He’ll get lynched, that’s for sure.

His heart races as he waits. That is totally new to him too. Racing heart when he’s not in a life or death situation. At least not imminently. 

Dean waits and listens but he can’t hear a thing. He’s already halfway turning around when there’s a rattling at the knob, and for the second time in one night, Dean looks into a barrel of her fucking gun. 

_ This girl, seriously. _

He quickly places his hand on the barrel, lowers it down before he pushes her inside and closes the door behind him.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N! What’s with you and pointing guns at me, huh?” Dean hisses.

“It’s not my fault you knock at my door in the dead of the night!” She hisses back and walks to her dresser, placing the gun on top of it. Turning around she raises her eyebrows, “What are you doing here anyway?”

It’s only now that Dean notices her wearing a bathrobe around her. In her swift turn, the knot comes loose and one side comes slightly off. He can see her bra, and her matching lace panties.

_ Jesus. _

She was probably about to take a shower and Dean swallows the thick feeling that’s blocking his throat.

Y/N’s face is a little flush when she notices him staring and she tugs the bathrobe into place, securing the knot tighter back around her body.

“So, why are you here?” She asks but is avoiding his eyes. He knows she’s probably a little embarrassed, which she really shouldn’t be if he judges by the way his body reacts to her.

“J— just wa— wanted to see if you’re okay,” He stutters, and why the fuck does he stutter? It’s not like he has never seen a woman in underwear before. But she fucking threw him off balance. Knocked the air from his fucking lungs. Dean’s absolutely not used to that.

She must know that he’s a little off because she starts to get back into her groove as well by the grin on her face. It’s all cocky, too. God, he hates that he loves it.

“Did you like what you see?” She chuckles.

Dean knows a challenge when he sees one, so he grins back — equally cocky if not more — while he takes a step towards her. And when he notices her not stepping back or holding her hand up to stop him, Dean dares to go even closer, “Why? Do you want me to like what I see, Princess?”

His hand comes up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and she looks down at first before raising her eyes to meet his. Her pupils are blown, he thinks his look the same. Dean swallows, his tongue shoots out to wet his lips. It’s unintentional, a thing he isn’t aware of doing when he does it. What he doesn’t account for is that she replicates it, licking her bottom lip, bites on it a little. It’s all shiny now. 

_ Shit.  _ How is he able to resist? 

“Maybe?” Y/N says after she swallows too, and there’s a smirk. One that makes her look absolutely like a goddess of mischief.

“What if I say that I do, huh?” He says and winks, because two can play that game and he’s not really bad at it.

Her hands come up, find the lapel of his suit jacket, and she fists them in her palms. Dean knows, he fucking knows that he  _ should  _ resist but he fucking  _ can’t _ . All the warnings, all the talking that Naomi did, thrown out of the fucking window, which is unlike him. But right now? Right now his walls are torn down by just one look, one fucking smirk.

He lets the fingertips of his index and middle finger skim down from her ear across her face, until he reaches her chin. He feels goosebumps beneath the pad of his fingers along the way, and it makes his hair on his own body rise. 

Dean cups her chin with his thumb and forefinger, tilts her head up. The tension is thick in the air, he can literally feel it. Can fucking taste it.

“I’d say thank you?” She whispers. It’s barely audible, more like a huff of air, the crease between her eyebrows deepens.

It’s awfully cute and he has to chuckle softly.

There’s silence afterward. A long pause of him staring and her and vice versa. All the fibers in Dean’s body are screaming at him, telling him to back out while he still fucking can. Naomi is popping up in his head,  _ stay away _ , she says,  _ listen to your head and not your heart _ .

He shakes his head, shakes the thought of his boss away while he lets the warmth that he feels in his heart rise, while he lets the flutter in his guts win. 

Dean swallows hard one more time. His Adam’s apple bops. He licks his lips, sees her doing the same. Fucking again.

_ Fuck.  _

He’s too far gone to think straight. Closing his eyes, Dean surges forward, presses his lips to hers, and kisses her soft and gentle. She wraps her arms around his neck, presses her body closer to his, and Dean’s hand goes to her face, palms span wide around the side of her head as he wraps his other arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. 

She sets the pace, teases her tongue along his bottom lip and he grins to himself, opens his mouth a little to grant her access.

Y/N breathes into his mouth and there’s a whisper of something that he doesn’t catch at first but then he hears it.

She breaks the kiss to whisper again. This time it’s loud and clear, “Adam.” 


	4. Chapter.03

“Adam,” She says and Dean’s body goes rigid instantly. Everything he felt before — the warmth that crept up his spine turns ice cold. He frowns at her and takes a step back while he shakes his head. 

Did he hear it right or did his ears and mind play tricks on him? He can’t tell, because he can’t sort the thoughts that are flying around in his head.

_ Adam?  _

_ What’s with Adam?  _

_ Who the fuck is Adam? _

“What?” Dean hisses out and he’s irritated, how can he not fucking be? He paces around, for fucking good measure. A fucking perfect moment, fucking destroyed. Princess has a way with timing, doesn’t she?

“I’m sorry, it’s just— Adam,” 

There it is again, the name. The fucking stupid name of another man. He’s not jealous. At least he thinks he isn’t. At least he shouldn’t fucking be. But the name rubs him the wrong way, he can’t fucking lie about that.

Y/N’s about to say something more, but Dean interrupts her with a snort, “I don’t know what’s your turn on, princess, but calling another man’s name while I’m kissing you is not really my thing,” 

He tries to play it cool, doesn’t let on that it fucking bothers him.

“No, no!” She sighs and exhales audibly. 

There’s also a frustrating sound coming out of her throat that almost makes him chuckle and above all, fucking weak. He tries to stay firm, though.

“What is it?” He asks, with visible irritation on his face. He can feel the creasing of his forehead.

“Adam is—” She says and pauses to let out another audible sigh, “Adam  _ was _ — He was a soldier of my dad’s. He was a good guy.”

Dean frowns some more. He has no fucking idea where she wants to go with this. Adam was a good guy, so what? Does that make it okay to say the other man’s name?

“God, I’m all over the place,” She groans.

Dean doesn’t say anything, just looks at her with one raised eyebrow. Yeah, because she fucking is. What’s the point of mentioning some other dude?

She clears her throat, “Okay, right. I’ll start again,” She looks at him, her eyes meeting his, and Dean has the feeling that he  _ needs  _ to listen to it, even if he doesn’t necessarily  _ want  _ to. 

“Please, be my guest,”

“All I want to say is that I had a fling with Adam and, and, and… Well, he took my virginity, and you wanna know what happened?” She gestures with her hands and paces around the room. Now she’s the irritated one. It would be cute if he wasn’t so damn confused.

He can’t say anything but stare at her with a fucking frown etched so deep it seems like it takes over all of his fucking face, “No? I mean, I’m not really into knowing what happened when he took your virginity, to be perfectly honest with you?”

“Not that!” She gestures with her hand and groans, “God!”

“Then what? I mean, am I jealous? Yeah, maybe? But you don’t need to rub it in?” 

Well, he doesn’t know why he admitted it. Damn fucking Adam, seriously?

“Fuck’s sake, Dean! Dad found out and fucking castrated him! He’s still alive, but he moved away to god knows where! Because that’s the thing that happens when someone comes too close to me!”

Dean needs a moment to let her words sink in. And then he can’t control himself anymore. There’s a burst of loud laughter, it rumbles in his chest and he tries to hold it in by clasping his hand over his mouth. Dean feels a rush of contentment, feels fucking relief. 

Y/N stops her pacing and stands akimbo while she stares him down. She watches until he finally composes himself and Dean has to brush away at one single tear that rolls down his cheek from the corner of his eye. 

He strolls over to her after, his hands taking hers away from her hips to raise them both to his face, places careful soft kisses on her knuckles.

“Aren’t you afraid of what could happen to you if he found out?” Her voice is whiny. It’s adorable, really.

He brushes a hand over her face, his knuckles skimming over her cheek. Dean bends down to kiss her gently, leaves his lips on hers for a little too long and not long enough, because he knows that he has to leave, at least for tonight. He breaks the kiss and leaves his forehead on hers while he rests his hand on the back of her neck, “Princess, I told you before and I’m telling you again. I fucking love taking risks.”

  
  


____________________________________________________

  
  
  
  


_ I fucking love taking risks. _

She still hears his whisper, his voice was deep and soothing. 

Is Dean for real? He loves taking risks? He’s absolutely kidding, right? The risks he’s taking right after he kissed her last night is of disastrous magnitude. He could get fucking killed but he does not fucking care! It blows her mind!

Dean went away right after the lingering kiss that left her all hot and bothered. She was glad that she was about to hop into the shower anyway, was glad that she could wash off the tingly feeling, used the showerhead to stimulate herself, and found release quite quickly. No wonder. After the kiss, it was quite easy because when she closed her eyes all she saw, tasted and felt, was Dean. 

Y/N settled into bed after, but it was hard to find sleep, since even though she came, there’s something inside her that she couldn’t satisfy. A longing that she knew only a man could help ease. Preferably, she’d like that man to be Dean. She laid awake for some time, kind of hoping that he felt the same, hoping that he would sneak into her room in the night since his room is just down the hall, but sadly, he never did. 

Maybe he changed his mind? Maybe he thought that she wasn’t worth all the risks anyway? Would she blame him if he did change his mind? Probably not. 

  
  
  


*

  
  


She wakes up the next day with the tingly feeling still there and she curses Dean because how did he do that? How can he make her body want so much more with just one fucking kiss? That’s not fucking fair!

Quickly, she hops into the shower, in hopes of finding another release to ease her body. And like last night, she does. Quite quickly, too.

After getting dressed, she walks down the stairs, ready to face the day, ready to go into work but stops mid-step when she notices that Max’s already sitting on the couch just right below, reading something on his phone. Upon noticing her, he stands up and lets his phone drop into his pants pocket before straightening his suit.

“You sure like to take your time, don’t you?” There’s a rise of his eyebrows.

“I’m not needed in the restaurant today and only do inventory, so sue me for waking up later than usual. Besides, you have a phone, Max. Why didn’t you just text if you want something?”

“Eh,” Max shrugs, “Boss’ orders. He needs to speak to you.”

She rolls her eyes as she makes her way down the steps, “I have to go into work,”

“You just said you technically don’t  _ need  _ to be in! Don’t shoot the messenger, Y/N. He’s waiting in his office.”

Y/N groans when she makes her way to her dad’s office. She knocks three times, deliberately loud, for fucking good measure. But still, she barks in right after, not waiting for approval.

To her surprise, her dad’s in there alone, which is rare. He’s usually surrounded by his men.

He looks up from his papers when he notices her, only lifting his eyes from the papers far enough to spare her a quick glance, “Sit down, Y/N.”

She nods and settles herself into the heavy and ancient-looking chair standing across from him and his desk. The room is kept in dark wooden tones, something she doesn’t really approve of, but he wouldn’t let her remodel it, saying it represents his dark soul. She can’t agree more.

There’s another silence as he finishes reading a paragraph. He signs it and places his pen down before crossing his hand on top of the papers, his fingers intertwined.

“Why do you want to speak to me, Dad? I’m about to go to work.”

He sighs, as if he doesn’t understand why work is so important to her. Honestly, she doesn’t think he  _ really _ understands her at all. Probably never has. They’re too much alike, personality-wise, but also she looks a lot like her late mother and she thinks that it pains him to even look at her. At least he gives her the impression that it does.

“I want to ask your opinion on Dean.”

Her heart starts to race. It picks up speed so fast that she thinks the thumbing can be seen on her chest. Why does he want to ask her about Dean? Does he know something? Does he know that they kissed? Where is Dean anyway? Oh god, she hopes he’s okay!

Y/N ignores the thumping of her heart, wipes out the irritation off her face, “What about Dean?”

Her dad leans back in his chair, seemingly unfazed and she breathes relief because he doesn’t catch on that her heart is pumping fucking fast, “What do you think of him? Do you think he can be trusted?”

“Yeah,” She says and tries not to squint because it comes out of her a little too fast. She tries to make a longer pause afterward, “I think he showed that he can be trusted, as he protected us yesterday.”

He clicks with his tongue, before he lets out a sigh. She hates that because she can never read him. 

“Good,” He leans forward and picks his pen back up again, “I trust your words, princess.”

_ Princess _ . Dad had never called her that for ages. He used to when she was younger. That’s why other people picked on it as well. Bobby used to call her princess all the time.

He raises his eyebrows after a pause and trains his eyes on her, “He told me you pointed your gun at him?”

The color rises to her cheeks. Dammit, why did Dean have to tell dad? Just why did he think that it would be a fucking good idea? 

Y/N nods her head while looking down. Like a kid who’s been caught. 

“I did.”

“You never point a gun at your own people, Y/N!” He scolds.

“Yeah, well look who’s talking,” She spits back, because who is he to talk, really? She’s seen him pointing guns at people all the fucking time.

“At least I know how to handle one!” He scoffs and stops to snort, “Are you finished with your inventory?”

“No, I’m planning to go in now.”

God, she’s annoyed. But she’s trying her best not to really show it, though.

“Take a break, go get breakfast, and then you wait until Dean’s back.” Her father says.

“Why? Where is he?” She’s curious as hell, but she tries to sound nonchalant. 

“Learning the ropes from Benny. He’ll be back later and will take you to the shooting range.”

“Ugh,” She rolls her eyes for the effect.

Her father chuckles, “It was Dean’s idea but I agree. If you want to get into the business, you have to know how firearms work.”

Y/N presses her lips into a thin line, tries not to grin because that would be too obvious, “Fine.”

  
  
  


____________________________________________________

  
  
  


Dean’s standing by the door as Benny paces around the back office of a restaurant that’s situated not too far from the mob’s HQ. 

The owner’s apparently late in paying this month's protection money, he’s been told. Azazel suggested that Benny takes Dean along to learn the art from the apparent best.

Benny had his people waking the family up in the apartment right above the restaurant that they are living in, and pointed a gun at all of them as they brought them down to the office. Now the father is sitting on a chair, his hands bound behind his back as he faces Benny. The wife is on the sofa, holding her children on either side of her body. The kids have their heads buried into their mother’s stomach so as not to have to watch what’s going on and she covers their ears for them. 

It’s a heartbreaking sight and Dean’s disgusted, but he has to fucking play the part, doesn’t he? It’s actually the worst feeling in the world and even though he knows it’s a part of the job and he’s seen much worse, he can never get used to it. He will probably never be able to. He’s actually glad he’s the consigliere and doesn’t have to deal with this kind of thing on a daily basis. But still, Dean needs to do them because it’s expected from him to follow fucking orders.

“Tomorrow, I promise!” The owner says in broken English. Dean has read the files and knows that they are Armenians. Coming over to the States to pursue a dream with the whole clan. The father looks up at Benny with pleading eyes, “Please!”

“You had a fucking week,” Benny growls, “What will a day longer get you? You think you can go follow some rainbows and dig up some pots of gold?” 

“We’ll have it for you tomorrow, I promise, please! I’m waiting for my cousin!” The man pleads.

Benny stops his pacing to chuckle. He swings his gun, hitting the man on the side of his face. The blow is so hard the guy topples over and immediately one of Benny’s men steps in and tips the chair back with the man still strapped to it. 

The blow makes Dean flinch and he looks over to the mother, who has her eyes closed while she cries to herself silently. Her children are wailing as their mother pulls their faces deeper against the sides of her body. 

“What will your cousin do?” Dean asks, and he knows he’s interrupting because Benny sends him a side-eye, however, Benny doesn’t dare to shut him up. 

The man spits blood onto the carpet floor in his own office. Dean’s sure that the stains will be a bitch to get out, but that’s probably the least of the man’s worries.

He looks at Dean now, ignoring Benny who has a tight grip around his gun, the knuckles already turning white. Dean knows it’s partly because Benny’s irritated that he interrupted him.

“Please, sir. He sold his house to help me. He has an appointment at the bank later today.”

Dean nods. He believes the owner and he’s always good at reading people. He can detect if someone’s shitting him. Not that Dean thinks it’s super that someone has to sell a fucking house just for them to be able to pay protection money. The restaurant isn’t doing well apparently, he has read that too. They pay more to the mob than they are earning, which is seriously fucked up in Dean’s eyes.

“We could wait a day.” Dean looks up and meets Benny’s eyes, challenging the man. He’s really not intimidated by the dude but he knows that Benny’s intimidated by him. Maybe because Benny doesn’t know him yet, doesn’t know what Dean’s capable of, but the guy acts as if he respects him, so Dean takes that.

Benny sends him a glare before he snorts out a laugh, “Yeah, and then what? There’s always gonna be another day and another,” He rambles on, and then he turns to the owner, walks closer to the poor guy. Benny skims the barrel of his gun over the man’s cheek, “What guarantee do you have for me, huh? What can you give me so that I will take your word for it?”

The owner is breathing heavily before he spits blood onto the floor again. This time a tooth comes out with the spit. He’s also bleeding from his nose.

There’s silence in the room. All the other guys are standing around, but they don’t interfere. Fucking cowards. How can you watch this and not at least feel something? Every shred of morality is brainwashed out of their minds. Dean’s not surprised, actually. He’s only slightly irritated.

“Shall I take your wife for the day, huh?” Benny chuckles darkly, his face only inches from the man’s.

Dean looks over to the mother, her silent sobbings turn to little whimpers as she shakes her head and whispers  _ no, no, no _ , over and over, like a broken record.

“Or your kids? Huh? You have a beautiful daughter, how old is she?” Benny grins.

“No!” The wife shouts while she lays her arm around her daughter. The girl is hugging her mother just a little tighter, too.

Dean guesses that the girl is not older than twelve and Benny’s clearly going too far with that. 

“Hey,” He interrupts Benny, “We don’t harm kids.”

Benny snorts as he stands up straight before sending Dean a glare. His eyes are dark, furious. Dean doesn’t budge, doesn’t let the man intimidate him. Why should he, Benny’s a fucking wimp. 

Dean ignores Benny and turns to the man on the chair, “Right, we’ll be here again tomorrow, have the money ready. Meanwhile, people will be watching your every move, making sure you don’t flee, you understand?”

He hears an audible exhale from the mother and the owner nods frantically, “Yes, yes! Thank you, sir! Thank you!”

Benny places his gun into his holster, his eyes are still on Dean. He watches as Benny bites the inside of his cheek and storms out past him, bumping into his shoulder deliberately on his way out.

  
  


*

  
  


As Dean makes his way out through the back of the office, he’s greeted by Benny who slams him against the wall and pins him there. Benny’s breathing is ragged as he moves his face closer to Dean’s. 

“Just who the fuck do you think you are!” Benny hisses, his breath stinks of alcohol. It’s not even nine-fucking-AM. The dude has a serious drinking problem, apparently. 

“I only have Azazel’s best interest in mind,” Dean shrugs and stays calm. It’s not hard. He’s not afraid of Benny at all, “Do you think he would be happy to hear that you threatened to take one of the kids?”

Benny gasps, his mouth opens and closes as he tries to come up with something to piss Dean off. When he can’t think of anything, he purses his lips to a thin line, “Fine. Whatever!” He pushes himself away from Dean with force and Dean has to flinch at the quick pain he feels in his shoulders. 

The other man walks to his vehicle and gets in, driving away, before Dean could even push himself off from the wall. 

  
  


____________________________________________________

  
  
  


Y/N walks into the dining room with the intention to get some coffee into her system. She can’t say that she’s not upset about not going into work and somehow she’s also a little happy that she gets to see Dean again, gets to be alone with him. She wonders though, if he’ll think that she’s a basket case for mentioning Adam, wonders if he really isn’t upset about her mentioning another man’s name when he kissed her. 

To her surprise, she finds Bela sitting at the table, drinking her own cup of coffee.

“Hey?” She says, raising her eyebrows at her friend. Bela seems to be a little jumpy because the woman chokes on her coffee upon seeing Y/N, and she coughs while holding her palm flat to her chest, “I didn’t expect you here.” 

She really didn’t. Bela usually calls before coming over, but what does Y/N know really, her house is a goddamn open place for people of the family. People come and go around here, there are security standing at the door, but they would let anyone in who they know are  _ family _ . Besides, at this time of the day, Y/N’s already at work so it could be that Bela drops in every now and then without telling her? 

“Yeah, uh,” Bela clears her throat, “It was just a spur of the moment. I really like the coffee here and I thought I could get one before going into work.”

Y/N glances over to the big clock hanging on the wall. It’s past eleven. She turns back to her friend, mutters a “Yeah, sure,” and sees Bela’s cheek turning bright pink. 

Before Y/N can say more, her phone vibrates in her back pants pockets and she finishes it out, stares at the message from Dean. Her heart thumbs ridiculously fast and the thing with Bela suddenly not important anymore. The other girl takes her purse and walks into the kitchen with her half-drunken coffee mug, and Y/N can’t mind because her thumb already swipes over her phone to open up the message.

> _ D: How are you today? _

She looks up to see the maid bringing her coffee and she thanks the woman with a nod. Her lips curve up to a smile as she thumbs over the keyboard on her phone.

> _ Y/N: Not good. I’m not allowed to go into work because you ran to my dad and whined about me pulling a gun on you. _
> 
> _ D: Hey, in my defense, I almost shit my pants _

She chuckles at that. 

> _ Y/N: You’re so dramatic. So, when will you be back? Apparently you’re out with Benny? _
> 
> _ D: I’m already back. _

She looks around, even looks behind her, because that’s something Dean would probably pull. She imagines him to be a guy who would jump out from somewhere to scare the shit outta her. 

> _ Y/N: How? I would have heard you because I was downstairs all the time. _
> 
> _ D: Oh, sweetheart, I’m just good like that.  _

She snorts as there's another message coming in.

> _ D: Meet me in my office? I’m in the one that belonged to Bobby, obviously. _
> 
> _ Y/N: I’m having coffee. _
> 
> _ D: Bring it with you. Get me one, too. Black. _
> 
> _ D: Please? _

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


She’s making her way to Dean’s office with two coffees in hand, walking slowly as she goes because she didn’t put them on a tray and doesn’t want to spill them about. 

Y/N actually doesn’t know why she got his coffee in the first place. Dean can easily just call up the maid if he wants to have a cup of coffee, or anything else, but again, she doesn’t know what’s happening with her nowadays anyway. There’s a strong urge to please people. The urge has always been there. Maybe because she thinks that pleasing people will get her the recognition she wants and she can’t help but do it, even if she doesn’t like these people and what they’ve become at all. She has a rebellious streak, apparently. At least there’s that. It somehow makes her think that she’s probably not entirely corrupted by her urges.

“Hey,” She shouts out as she arrives at the door to his office that’s closed. She realizes that she can’t possibly open it up with two coffees in hand, “You gotta open for me.”

She can hear some shuffling inside, hears the clicking of dress shoes along the floor as Dean walks to open the door. 

Dean opens up the door wide, an easy grin sitting on his face, “What about please and thank you?”

“I could just toss the coffee in your face, how’s that about please and thank you?” She scoffs playfully as she walks to his desk and places the two coffees onto it. 

“You really brought me a coffee?” Dean asks in surprise as he closes the door and joins her at his desk, taking a seat at the big wooden table where he still has a lot of files spread on top. 

She frowns, “Well, yeah? You said please.”

He chuckles, “Is that the way to get you to do things around here, huh?” 

He stares at her with raised eyebrows as he takes the cup and places it to his lips. Oh god, his sinful fucking lips. All of a sudden, the images of last night come flooding into her mind and she can feel her ears burning. She thinks Dean must know because he pauses to stare at her some more, and the grin on his face turns cocky before he takes a sip of his coffee, groaning in satisfaction as the liquid goes down his throat. 

“Right,” She says and clears her throat, trying to get the image out of her mind and changing the subject at the same time, “Dad said you’d take me to the shooting range?” 

Dean takes another sip before he sets the mug down with a nod, “Yeah, that is correct. You up for it?”

“I mean, do I have a choice?” She clutches her coffee between her palms and shrugs. 

“Y/N, I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to, okay? I just thought it’d be good if you know how to shoot and actually hit your target. It might come in handy one day, you never know.”

She sighs, “See? I don’t have a choice.”

“You do. You say you don’t want to and I take you somewhere else, pretend we’ve been to the range just to not upset your father.”

He’d take her somewhere else? Where? Does she really want to know? Well, yeah, she does but her mind also says that Dean’s right. She should fucking know how to handle a gun. He’s right that it might come in handy. There are enough rival mob gangs around who are more than ready to take their place, apparently. Not that she cared that much about it.

“No, it’s okay, we can go.” She says at last, after a long thinking period. 

Dean nods, but he doesn’t smile. Neither does she. 

“Can you be ready in ten minutes?” He asks instead as he tips his mug back and swallows down all the coffee. His Adam’s apple is bopping and she has to bite down on her bottom lip so as not to squeal out loud. 

How can someone make drinking coffee hot as fuck? Dean Winchester can and she might hate him a little for it.

“Sure.” She says, hiding her face behind her own mug as she drinks up her own coffee.

  
  
  
  


____________________________________________________

  
  
  
  


Dean’s surprised to see her bring him coffee. It was supposed to be a joke and he couldn’t help but smile brightly as he saw her juggling two mugs in her hands. 

And when she sat in his office looking all flushed because he’s sure she thought about the kiss they shared — because he’s been thinking the same — he wanted to get up and walk around to kiss her again, just because he’s allowed to. Just because he fucking knows that she wants it as much as he does. But it would be too risky around here, he knows that too.

Jesus, he’s been thinking about her since he left her room last night. Had to fucking rub himself off while he took a shower, and while he closed his eyes, all he fucking saw and felt was her. He came embarrassingly fast but his dick never really softened after that. It stayed semi until he fell asleep to images of her, debauched and spit slick next to him.

That’s definitely not normal, neither is it good, he fucking knows, but apparently his dick didn’t get the memo yet. 

He’s waiting in the foyer, looks through some emails on his phone when he waits for her to come down from her room so he can take her to the shooting range.

Somehow, though, Dean was hoping that she would say that she didn’t want to go. Maybe he wanted to whisk her away, take her out, make her forget her name, escaping her golden cage for a couple of hours. But she’s a fucking good girl and apparently, she likes to listen to her head. So whisking her away would have to wait for another opportunity.

Dean notices her walking down the stairs and as he looks up, his heart might have stopped beating for a moment. She’s changed from her food-stained work pants into a skirt. 

_ A goddamn fucking skirt.  _

What makes her think that wearing a skirt to a shooting range is o-fucking-kay? Fucking princess, seriously. Dean mutters curses under his breath as he stands up and slips his phone back into his pants pocket.

“I’m ready,” She beams and Dean’s still grumpy as he curses silently. 

He takes another look at her, eyes her up and down. The skirt isn't really short but it gives him enough of a view of her thighs, something he knows he shouldn’t fucking stare at. At least not when he’s in this goddamn house.

“You really wanna wear that, princess?” 

Y/N frowns before she presses her lips together, pulling a pout. Jesus, that’s not fucking fair. He would just love to take a bite from those pouty plump lips. It’s also not fucking fair that the combination of her appearance and pout makes his dick stir in his pants. God, why did he think taking her to a shooting range would be a good idea? Clearly, his heart did all the thinking when he suggested the idea to her dad. His fucking heart should maybe talk with his fucking dick first before suggesting another stupid thing. And maybe, his fucking head should jump in next time and scold at every other part of his body.

“Why?” She says before her mouth widens to a grin. 

Oh, she fucking knows why. Dean’s not really sure if he should be proud of the cheeky girl or not.

“You know why,” He grumbles.

She takes two steps closer, moves right into his fucking space, and stands up on her tiptoes. Her face is close to his. Close enough so he can smell the traces of her shampoo, can smell her perfume that fucking clouds his mind, “Does it turn you on?”

Dean pulls a frown. Not because he wants to, but more because he has to. God, yeah, he loves it, loves when she knows what she wants, but this is not a good place to rile him the fuck up. 

His hands grab at her arms, pushes her back onto her feet, “Let’s go,” He mutters between gritted teeth, and she fucking chuckles as he pulls her along and out the door. 

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


Y/N kept teasing him so much on the way to the range, that Dean popped a fucking boner, which again, it’s not fucking fair because he’s usually able to control himself, and he’s pretty good at it. It’s a thing he’s actually proud of because of all the undercover missions he’s been on, but hell, this mission is giving him headaches — and boners, apparently.

She kept moving her skirt up to her thighs, inch by little inch, while she crosses and uncrosses her legs, showing him more and more, and even though Dean tried not to look, he couldn’t resist a glance. He’s just a man, really. While she hitched her skirt higher, he couldn’t help but notice the holster.

Dean lifts his eyebrows in question, “You wearing a thigh holster, princess?” It does something to him, he can’t lie about that.

“Duh, where else should I keep my gun?”

_ This fucking girl, seriously.  _

He groaned, more out of frustration than anything else, and she just fucking giggled. 

There was also a time that she watched him while he drove. He could feel her eyes on him, and he caught her pressing her thighs together, which made him chuckle to himself in silence. He’s not the only one affected.

They arrive in the parking lot of the shooting range that belongs to the mob and he gets out first because he doesn’t want to be sitting there and stare at her thighs when she gets out. Maybe also because he’s a little afraid that she’ll flash him her ass — which he’d actually love to see, but not when they’re out in the open — so he gets out and rights his suit to conceal his boner as best as he can. 

Dean walks ahead, tries to not let her see his front. Doesn’t want her to see that he can be affected so easily. Doesn’t actually want to give her the satisfaction. She is a girl who likes to play, he has noticed, but again, so does he.

However, Dean has to stop mid-walk towards the entrance to the range because she doesn’t follow. Turning back, he lifts his arms and lets them fall to his sides frustratingly, “Do you need a special invitation or something, princess?”

“Ha!” Y/N giggles when she notices his still visible boner. 

She’s laughing to herself as he pushes past him, making sure that she touches him and Dean catches a whiff of her alluring scent, it makes him fucking light-headed. 

He rolls his eyes dramatically and only hears her calling out for him to  _ move his ass _ . 

So fucking bossy. 

Yet, strangely, Dean doesn’t find it in himself to care.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


The few people who are inside of the shooting range when they make their presence known, quickly clear the room. 

Dean frowns and lets out a sigh, thinking how pathetic it is that they don’t even bother to interact. There was no fucking  _ hello _ , or even a nod. In fact, they didn’t even look at Y/N, and by proxy, they avoided looking at Dean as well. 

_ Fucking cowards.  _

He pities her, for real. What a lonely life she must lead. Everyone is afraid of her, when in reality she’s just a cinnamon roll. A dirty-minded and cheeky one from what he gathered, because she’s teasing him with that fucking skirt. Dean should be embarrassed that a simple skirt can rile him up so much. 

The man who’s on range duty comes running towards them as the last of the people left through the front door. The employee breathes heavily and Dean knows that the guy most likely checked every room and told the people to leave because the princess has arrived. It’s not what he wants and by the look of her distraught face, it’s certainly not what she wants, but Dean has no say in this. 

“Cleared it for you, sir,” The guy says to Dean, doesn't even look at her and that is really fucked up. She’s standing right the fuck here, “I’m taking a lunch break. Will an hour be enough?”

Dean looks at her, but her gaze is trained on her toes. He clears his throat before he looks back at the man, “Yeah, okay,”

The man nods and retreats as they both watch him leave. 

As soon as the man’s out the door Dean lets out a sigh, “Well, this was hard to watch, even for me.”

“Yeah,” Y/N finally looks up from her toes and tilts her head up to meet his eyes, “I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t be treated like that.”

She shrugs, “I don’t know any different, and honestly, can’t we not talk about it? Can we just get this shooting thing over with?” 


	5. Chapter.04

Y/N is grumpy and she’s actually thankful they’re at the shooting range. She’s in the right mood to blow things up and shoot things dead, honestly. 

She feels Dean’s eyes on her as he watches her hitching her skirt up and takes the gun out of her thigh holster. 

“Jesus, not here, princess!” He hisses and his big hand grabs at her arm, pulling her along the corridor to the back. She has a hard time keeping up with his long strides, damn that man’s long legs!

Dean pushes her through an open gate. She’s never been here, actually. Never really had any reasons to. Her dad always said it’s a boy's thing and it’s actually the first time in her teens that she agreed with him because she never wanted anything to do with firearms.

Leaving her standing by the entrance, Dean switches on the lighting of the room, and immediately, the back wall with the targets lights up. However, the place where they will be standing is kept in gloomy darkness. She sees that there are about ten booths lined up one next to the other, and Dean leaves her to choose one of them while he strolls over to the place where too many earmuffs are hanging off the wall. She watches him choose two and examines their sizes before he walks to the cabinet to retrieve ammunition. 

“You've never done this before, right?” He asks as he places the two earmuffs and ammunition on the table right in front of her on the inside of the booth she’s standing at.

“No,”

“‘K,” He says, “Show me how you’re holding your gun, just don’t fucking point it at me again, okay?”

She chuckles at that but she complies, placing her right hand around the handle and wrapping her index finger around the trigger as she points the gun at the target. 

“No,” Dean shakes his head.

“What?” She frowns, doesn’t really understand. “It’s not hard, is it? You just pull the trigger and shoot!”

“C’mon,” Dean smirks and gets behind her. He’s so fucking close, her nose picks up the scent of his cologne. It suits him. He must have been in the suit for hours already, has most likely sweated in it too. The cologne, paired with his own body odor, gives off a mouthwatering scent, and it clouds her mind, “Hold it up again but this time, don’t put your finger around the trigger.”

He places his right hand on top of hers. It’s much bigger, warm, calloused, and strong, and she jerks up a little when his left hand goes around her waist, fingers spanning wide on her stomach to hold her in place. 

“Why not?” She asks, her heart picks up speed. 

“Most important rule,” He lowers his face to be level with hers, his chin brushes at her shoulder as he whispers, “Always, and I mean  _ always _ ,” He swallows, his nose brushes against her temple, his hand still around hers on the gun. There are goosebumps on her arm, little hairs starting to stand up at the back of her neck, “Keep your trigger finger outside of the trigger guard.”

“‘K,” Y/N mumbles, and she feels Dean placing a kiss just underneath her ear as he chuckles. 

“Right, let’s start.” He pushes himself away, and she squirms because how dare he? It was such a perfect moment.

Dean places the earmuffs over her head, is gentle and careful about it, and makes sure that they would cover her ears. He places his own over his ears and moves closer again. 

“Go on, shoot a couple of times just to have a feel for it.” His voice is loud, maybe out of fear that she wouldn’t hear him, but he’s standing close enough for her to feel his bass vibrating onto her back. 

_ God _ , this is going to be more torture than fun. 

Holding up the gun, she places both her hands on the handle. Closing one eye, she aims.

There’s a loud sound coming out of the gun when she pulls the trigger. Once, twice. The impact throws her back a little, but Dean’s there to counter it with his body, letting her bump back into the broadness of him.

“Wow,” He says and clicks his tongue. 

“Good?” Only now does she dare to open her eyes. 

Dean places one hand on her shoulder, squeezes it as he chuckles, “We try it again, just this time maybe try to actually hit the target, alright?”

Well, she can see now that the shots went to god knows where, and she groans out in frustration. 

“Come on, we practice until you hit it, okay?” He tries to humor her.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


After Dean went through the whole process with her about what Y/N should do and where she should aim and what not, she thinks she has got the hang of it. She hit the target shot after shot. 

“Very good,” He smiles down at her. Both his hands are braced on the little table in front, caging her in. 

“Am I?” She pushes herself up straight, her back meets Dean’s firm body and he places his hands on her hips. 

“Yeah,” His hands skim further down, “Let’s see how you can shoot under pressure.”

“What do you mean?”

He lowers his face to be level with hers again. His hand slides down her thighs, finds the seam of her skirt, and pushes it up a little.

“Go on, fire away,” He whispers, loud enough for her to hear over the earmuffs.

Y/N trains her eyes on the target and holds her arm up, but her fingers are shaking when his one hand goes up to her thigh, disappears underneath her skirt. With his other hand, he has a steady grip around her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh.

Dean begins to nose at her throat, places kisses on it while his hand finds her clothed crotch. She moans when he rubs over it, arches her back some more, and drives her ass into his bulge. 

She’s a little amused that it turns him on, too. Deciding to tease him, she backs up some more making him groan out, the sound he makes vibrates off her back.

“Do it,” He growls, before he starts to suck at her neck, sealing his lips around a sensitive patch of skin.

And she does. Fires a shot that misses the target by a couple of feet because his fingers are so goddamn distracting. He circles them over her underwear, right where her clit is, and she’s getting wetter by the second.

He takes her earmuffs off and throws them away, doing the same to his own, before he nibbles at her earlobe, making her arch her back some more, “Again,” 

His finger teases along her cleft through the soaked fabric, toys around the entrance where it’s moist. 

She fires, hitting the target but it’s too low. Her ears are still ringing from the shot and Dean’s sucking at her jaw while his fingers move the crotch of her panties to the side, but he doesn’t quite touch her there yet. Instead, he lets his finger brush over the side of her folds, kneading at her thigh and it’s fucking killing her.

Dean’s other hand is still wrapped tightly around her waist, fingers sprawl around her stomach as the finger of his other hand finds her center, and  _ holy shit _ it’s skin on skin, “C’mon, you can do better, princess,” He whispers, his warm breath brushes against the shell of her ear, making her insides tremble.

However, Dean just leaves his fingers there on her pussy, doesn’t fucking move them, and it’s torture. Pure fucking torture!

Another shot echoes off the wall. She hit it, higher than her last one.

Only when she hits it, does he move his fingers. His finger goes back to rub around her center, gathers slick to move forward to her clit and rubs over her sensitive nub with the slicked up digit, making her actually moan out loud.

“Shhhh,” He hushes her, “Gotta be quiet, baby.”

_ Baby.  _

She likes that term of endearment much better than princess. Especially when it comes out of Dean’s mouth. The sound of his voice rings in her ear. She can hear it clearly, can hear the sing-song of the syllables, the bass of it wraps her up warmly, smooth like fucking honey.

His fingers toy along her clit, the tip of it dancing dangerously close to her entrance, “Jesus, so much wetter now,” It’s not really aimed towards her, it’s more like a mumble to himself. She thinks he doesn’t even notice that it comes out louder than he intends to. With a thick swallow that she can hear audibly, he whispers so close to her ear that his hot exhale brushes against her shell, “You did good, baby, try it again. Do better,”

Y/N nods and aims before she fires the next shot. With the sound still ringing in her ear, Dean sinks one of his incredibly thick fingers into her hot, wet heat. It goes in smoothly, she’s plenty wet. 

However, when he sees that she misses her target, he withdraws his finger and clicks his tongue while he ghosts over her clit with the pads of them, “You can do better, you want my finger, don’t you, baby?” 

_ Fuck yes _ , she wants it. God, how can she not?

“Please?” She begs, just on that side of whiny, but she actually doesn’t really fucking care anymore how it sounds. She’s desperate and she thinks he fucking knows that already anyway.

Dean chuckles, his nose brushes along her cheek as he places a soft kiss on it, “You can do better. If you want me touching you, princess, hit the target. Hit it right.”

God, how can he make that sound so intense? So fucking erotic? 

She arches her back and tries to tease him, tries to drive her ass into his bulge that she clearly feels there, but Dean’s holding her back with his hand on her hips.

He hushes her, “No, shoot or we’ll leave.” 

Ugh. She lets out a loud groan that makes him shake his head in amusement.

Stretching out her arms, she aims, closes one eye, and almost closes them both when she feels him toying at her entrance again, the tip of his finger just ghosting around it, touches that are feather-light.

“Dean,” She whines because how can she not. He’s a fucking tease and she doesn’t know how much more of the teasing she can take, feels like she’s going to burst if she doesn’t touch her the fuck  _ there _ !

“Shhh,”

Y/N lets out an audible exhale before she concentrates on the target in front. She breathes some more, tries to hold her gun steady, trying to tune out Dean’s teasing in order to aim properly. Her tongue darts out, wets her own lips as she pulls at the trigger with her finger. 

It hits the target square in its chest. 

There’s a chuckle next to her ear, a whisper follows, “Good girl,” His finger plunges in again while the pad of his thumb rubs circles around her clit and she almost let her gun drop to the ground, “Careful, princess,” Dean croons, but keeps on fucking her with his thick digit. 

She leans forward, her stomach resting on the edge of the little table in front while she bites on her lip, trying hard not to moan out loud. 

“Go again,” He demands in a low growl, but he doesn’t pull out, instead he keeps his finger and thumb on her cunt, rubs and fucks her slowly.

_ God _ , how can she concentrate? 

“Hit it again and I’ll make you come, how does that sound, huh?”

“Fuck,” She moans, because yes, that sounds fucking great about now. 

She also knows that it won’t take long. She’s already so close. His one finger and thumb, paired with the excitement of getting caught is such a fucking kink she didn’t know she would be into.

Eagerly, she tries to tune everything out again but it’s harder this time. It’s harder with his finger inside of her. But she would be damned if she wouldn’t try.

Lifting her arms up again, she places the hand of the one that’s not gripping the handle just below the handle to steady it out. Cocking her head she breathes as steady as her body allows and she aims, squinting one eye closed. Dean’s finger is fitfully bumping against that spot inside of her that could make her fucking sing. 

Y/N realizes something. Realizes that Dean Winchester can play her like a fucking guitar and she likes it. Likes, how he seems to know what she wants. Likes how he can push at all her right buttons. Likes, how he fucking  _ cares _ .

A shot tears through the lewd sound of his finger working inside of her that was echoing off the walls. She’s sure there’s a puddle on the floor because she can feel her own juice running down her thighs and legs. 

_ God, this fucking man.  _

She closes her eyes right after shooting, drops her gun to the table because there’s no way she can hold it safely without endangering herself or Dean. She doesn’t even dare to open her eyes to look if she has hit the target, instead, she drops her forehead to the table, fingers scrambling at the wooden surface for purchase as Dean eases another finger inside and increases his pace. 

Suddenly though, he pulls her up by her hair, the pain of it is just on the right side, and instead of feeling turned off, it turns her on so much more. She’s not used to that. Not used to feeling like she does. That’s all Dean’s doing and god, he’s going to have her come on his fingers. Just like that. So fucking easy, isn’t she? She should be embarrassed but she really doesn’t care one bit.

He quickly pulls her into standing position, presses his chest to her back, and places the hand that’s threaded in her hair to her throat, fingers spraying across her throat as he licks and sucks at her jaw and cheek, “Good girl, you hit it, square in the face,” 

Dean hooks his fingers inside of her, digs it right into the wall to rub at that spot that makes her fucking head spin. Her hands grab at the table, fingers curling around the edge, nails digging into the wood. She’s leaving marks, she’s sure of that. 

By now, she’s on her toes while he puts pressure on his hand that’s around her throat, “Jesus, look at you, taking my fingers so fucking good. Such a good girl. You think you deserve to come, huh, baby?” 

His voice is strained, she can hear it but hers is too because she can barely answer.

“Uh-huh,”

Welp, there goes her coherent thoughts. 

He chuckles, “I think so too, you did very well. Try not to make too loud of a sound, understand?”

“Uh-huh,”

“Words, Y/N, use your words,”

“Y— yes, god, yes please!” 

Dean chuckles again before he tilts her head around, “Look at me,” 

And she does, looks at him as good as she can in the position she’s in. His eyes meet hers. They are dark, lusty, fucking predatory. Like he could devour her with just one look. Maybe he can. No, she’s sure he can. She’d gladly let him. 

The sound of his fingers moving in and out of her wet cunt is loud and obscene. It should make her embarrassed, but she can’t care about it right now because her legs are starting to tremble. 

Fuck, she’s going to come. She’s really going to come in her father’s own shooting range!

“Dean, fuck, I—,” 

“I know, baby,” He whispers, his breathing ragged.

His lips are on hers as he claims it, kissing her through her goddamn powerful orgasm to muffle her cries. 

She moans out loud into his mouth and Dean swallows all the sounds that he coaxes out of her. Her ears are ringing but not from the gunfire, her head feels light, her mind is blank. 

There’s a familiar voice that makes her come back to her senses.

“Good girl,” 

It’s soft and it lulls her back. 

“So good for me, ain’tcha baby?” 

“Yes, god,” She groans out tiredly. 

Dean chuckles, “You can just call me Dean,”

  
  
  


*

  
  


On the drive home Dean acts as if nothing happened, and it throws her the fuck off because she doesn’t really get it. 

He keeps on driving, not sparing her a glance. Instead, he keeps on gnawing at his bottom lips. She can’t read him and it’s so goddamn frustrating. There’s this little space between them that to her, feels like they’re worlds apart. It feels like she doesn’t matter, feels like he didn’t care if he just finger fucked her in fucking public. 

It feels fucking weird because there was an awkward silence for more than forty fucking minutes, and she’s irritated, doesn’t really hide it either because as soon as they arrive in the home’s garage, she gets out of the car even before it came to a complete halt, slamming the door behind her loudly, for fucking good measure.

“Hey!” Dean hurries to keep up with her and fuck his long strides.

He catches up with her as she’s about to round up the corner to the stairs up to the bedrooms, his hand grip her arm tight, “Baby, listen,”

Y/N frowns and looks at him, the annoyance clearly visible on her face. Oh, so now she's  _ baby _ , huh?

Dean purses his lips into a straight line and there are dimples showing. She has never seen them before. They usually don’t show and she guesses that they are making an appearance as he’s annoyed. Dimples of discontent, then. 

And how dare he. She’s annoyed too. 

She can see him gasping for air, can see him trying to word what he’s about to say—

“Benny, wait!” A woman calls out as she trails along with another set of heeled shoes right behind. 

Dean mutters out curses under his breath as he pulls Y/N back to hide in the little opening underneath the staircase. They were standing there, chest to chest, his warm breath is on her as he crowds her further against the wall so as not to be seen. 

“Why?” She mouths to him, but Dean doesn’t answer. Instead, he places his index finger on her lips to hush her. She can still smell herself on it, and can literally see that Dean’s mind registered too that the finger he’s holding up has been inside of her. 

“Wait,” The woman says and she can clearly hear that it’s Bela. 

“Benny,” This time it’s a man. 

Bela and Nick. 

And Benny.

Why is Bela still here? She wanted to grab a coffee before going into work, didn’t she? And why is she talking to Benny? And Nick? Nick and Bela? What the fuck is going on?

  
  


____________________________________________________

  
  


_ Goddammit. _

Dean’s fucked, isn’t he? 

He let his heart rule his head and that got him into a sticky situation that he won’t get out so easily. The question is more if he wants to get out at all? He’s too fucking torn between doing the right thing and — well,  _ not  _ doing the right thing, and right now he can’t even fucking think straight with his body pressed to hers. Dean feels her soft tits against his chest and it makes him fucking weak again. Not to mention that her scent still lingers on his finger that’s resting on her fucking delicious lips in between their faces. 

Dean swallows. 

The tension is thick between them. He wants to tell her so much. Wants to tell her that he fucking cares about her— 

—it’s just, they didn’t meet under the fucking right circumstances.

“Benny,” 

A male voice cuts through Dean’s trance, pulling him back to reality.

They hear Benny groan out, hear him muttering something underneath his breath before he sighs. 

“The new dude fucking undermined me!” 

“Did you put him into place?” It’s Nick who asks the question. 

“No, you fucking idiot! I gotta play by the rules, you understand? I want you to find out things about him, alright? And I want you, to find out why Bobby fucking chose him over your stupid ass!” Benny’s spits out his word in a low hiss, “You’re such a useless fucking scumbag, Nick! You had one fucking job!”

They hear Nick breathing steadily, but he doesn't even stand up to Benny. Dean wonders what the fuck is going on. Maybe Dean’s getting more out of this job than he bargained for. In more ways than the other. Maybe there’s something more going on in the inner works than he first thought.

This is just fucking great, really. It’s as if his life isn’t fucked up enough with meeting her. 

He looks down at her, sees her looking up at him with a frown. His thumb goes to her forehead, brushes softly over the crease between her eyebrows. 

They hear footsteps walking towards the front door, hear the door open and shut before the house goes silent again. 

Y/N’s crease is still there, he couldn’t even them out. If anything, they are now etched deeper into her skin, “Dean, what is going on?”

“I don’t know,” He says, and it’s the truth, he doesn’t know either, “I wish I did.”

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


It’s beginning to get dark when Dean is on his way to the abandoned warehouse, driving in zick zacks to shake off people who could be following him. He needs to be careful now more than ever. 

After the incident and after Y/N didn’t get the answer she wanted out of Dean — honestly, how could he have answered? He really didn’t know what was going on — she retreated into her room and Dean took two steps at a time but still, she was quicker. Guess when she really sets her mind to something, she can achieve it, huh? He was always the quicker one out of the two of them. 

He tried coaxing her out, knocked with a promise of taking her out for lunch, whatever her heart desired but there was no answer. He would have stayed in front of the room if it wouldn’t have been so risky, but Dean had to eventually retreat and before he knew it, he got wind that she checked into work. 

Guess the things he wanted to say to her had to wait and Dean’s not really happy about that. Well, maybe he was, just a little because he hates talking about anything involving any kind of fucking feelings. He’s not fucking made for it. A part of him is not happy that she’s upset and ignores him. He can’t blame her, though.

  
  


*

In the evening, Dean parks with a screech at the abandoned warehouse when he arrives and quickly gets out of the car to run to the door. He barges in with a bang, making his presence known. 

“What happened?” Naomi doesn’t even look up from her laptop. 

He braces his hands on the makeshift desk, leans down a little, “Something is going on in the family,”

His supervisor raises her eyebrow, “Huh,”

“Do you know anything about it?” Dean frowns because it looks like she fucking does and she hasn’t fucking told him.

“Huh,” Naomi sighs again.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Dean groans, and turns around, ready to leave. He’s so fucking angry.

“Well, yeah, kind of,” 

He hears Naomi standing up from her chair, the metallic legs making an awful sound on the concrete as it's being pushed back. He turns around and spreads his arms out on the side of his body before dropping them back. Dean’s lips are pursed into a thin line. 

“We don’t know exactly what’s going on if that helps,”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Dean threads through his hair with one hand before he scratches at his jaw, “Don’t you think you should have told me of your suspicions, huh? I thought you want me to be fucking safe but then you throw me face-first into a fucking shark’s tank!”

Naomi’s facial expression doesn’t change much. There’s only a little frown on her forehead which smoothes out pretty quickly. Sometimes Dean doesn’t even know if she’s really human. Maybe she’s a robot. At least that would explain her lack of empathy.

“We know that something is going on. Why did you think Bobby came to us? He wanted revenge more than the family’s survival.”

“Sorry if I sound dumb,” Dean says and adds with a frown, “Revenge?”

“Yeah,” Naomi sits down again, leans back in her chair, “We kept it a secret—”

“—No shit,” He groans and rolls his eyes dramatically.

“Don’t interrupt me!” Naomi hisses and stares at him. 

Wow, she is really scary. Dean doesn’t dare to even blink.

“Right,” She goes on, “Bobby has been exposed to poison for an extended period of time. He noticed it before it was too late and that’s when he decided that the family isn’t worth risking his life for.” 

“How?”

“We don’t know,” Naomi shrugs, “Just to be sure, don’t drink or eat anything in that house.”

Dean snorts out a dark chuckle, “Thanks for the warning after I’ve been in and out of there for fucking days!” He shakes his head, can’t fucking believe what he just heard, “Benny told Nick to find out things about me. What’s there to find?”

“Nothing that ties you to us.”

“Good. That’s all I wanna know.” Dean nods and turns around, he’s too angry to stay, feels too exhausted to argue, and frankly too tired to want to know anything more. 

“I’m waiting for your report by the end of the week. Stay safe.”

He only manages to wave his arm before he makes his way out of the warehouse.

  
  
  


*

  
  


Back in the car, Dean places his forehead on the steering wheel to catch his breath. He wants a drink. He knows that there’s a bar in his office, but after Naomi’s revelation, he’s not going to touch a drop of anything in there again. 

Straightening himself, he starts up the engine, decides on going to a liquor store and stocking himself up. Maybe he should hide some bottles in his office and room. 

He also knows that he has another hideout he could use. The only thing is, there’s nothing to drink there either.

Dean drives away and pulls into the next best liquor store he finds on the way.

  
  
  


*

  
  


On his way back, he drives past the restaurant and there’s something in him that tells him to go see if she’s still working, even though he knows full well that he shouldn’t. 

For the second time in twenty-four hours, Dean let his heart rule his head — hell, who is he kidding! He doesn’t think his head ever ruled his heart since she stepped into the picture.

  
  
  


____________________________________________________

  
  
  
  


Y/N’s busy trying to lift the heavy coffee bean bag to be able to get to what’s underneath. It’s ridiculous how stuffed this storage room is, it’s not like they’re using that much to run the restaurant. Half of the products she had to throw away because it’s outdated and even though the restaurant acts as a farce and the food inspector is owned by them, she still doesn’t want people coming here to get a stomach bug just because she wasn’t careful enough. 

_ Owned by them _ is such a weird word. She still has to get used to the fact that she too, is a member of the family, although it’s not exactly women-friendly. 

She once wore a shirt with  _ ‘smash the patriarchy’ _ written in big bold lettering across her chest and paraded it around while Dad had invited people over for dinner. She didn’t even get a reaction out of him. All she got was a weak smirk while the others didn’t even notice that she was fucking there. 

That’s her life and oh god, she can’t even put it in words how much she wants out. 

“You need help there?” 

A deep voice cuts through the silence, making her jump up and her hand goes to the gun in her apron.

“Please don’t point a gun in my face again, princess.”

She spins around to see Dean.

There’s a tired look in his eyes, something she can’t quite read but the smirk’s there, even though it’s a weak one. And even though it’s not as bright and sharp as the normal grin he sends her, she gets weak. So weak that it almost makes her forget that she’s still somewhat salty about what happened earlier in the day.

“What do you want, Dean?” Y/N asks with fake annoyance. She can’t let him see that she’s actually glad to see him. Can’t let him know that she’s truly glad to have company.

He shrugs and maybe it’s just her imagination but his smirk widens a little while he strolls further into the room, “Just thought I could drive you home.”

There’s a frown on her forehead as she crosses her arms over her chest, “Ed said he’s still here and he’s taking me home when he’s finished.”

Dean chuckles, “The Ed who I bumped into on my way in? The one who said he was leaving?”

Y/N squints her eyes as she looks at Dean, “What did you tell him?”

Ed would never leave without telling her. He’s too good of a soldier to not follow the rules. She knows that, that’s why she continues to look at Dean suspiciously.

His eyebrows climb up his forehead and there’s a playful glint in his eyes, “What?” He asks, but she doesn’t say anything to it, just keeps on staring. 

He lets out a groan and rolls his eyes, “Fine, I told him to go home.”

“I knew it!” She snorts out, and adds, “And why would you do that?”

To her surprise, Dean doesn’t look at her, his gaze is trained down to his dress shoes. 

There’s an awkward silence between them. The kind of silence that hangs heavy, like there’s a bunch of unspoken words lingering in the air. She feels like she could cut the tension with a knife. 

“Look, can we not do this?” Dean mumbles, still not looking at her. 

“Do what?”

There’s a slightly longer pause where he sighs and then finally he looks up and she sees it. Sees the color in his cheeks. It makes his freckles stand out, even if the lighting in the storage room isn’t precisely the best.

She frowns, for good measure, because she knows he’s embarrassed. He’s probably one of the tough guys who doesn’t like to talk about feelings. They never do. 

“I really don’t know what you mean?” Y/N says and it takes everything in her not to chuckle out loud. It’s so easy to rile him up.

“You know what I mean,” He mumbles some more when he finally steps closer, and she notices him taking a look back to see if the door’s indeed closed, “Look,” Dean says when he turns his gaze back to her. He walks closer, crowding her in quickly. 

How did he do that? There’s no space left for her to get out, not that she wants to, but still. She’s caught between the stack of coffee bean bags and Dean’s broad chest. He’s so close she can smell his familiar cologne, can feel his warm breath on her. Dean moves even closer with his face, their noses almost touch as he lifts a hand to touch her cheek while his other hand grips her around her waist.

She anticipates the kiss, craves it like fucking air but Dean takes his fucking time. All he does is stare at her, his eyes travel over her face and it’s as if he’s taking in all the details and it makes her feel embarrassed, her cheeks flare up. 

Averting her gaze from Dean, she looks down, concentrating on looking at his Adam’s apple instead of into his eyes because she doesn’t think she can look at him without passing out, his gaze is so intense. She bites on her lips when an agonizingly long time passed without him doing a fucking thing. 

“Jesus,” He groans low and she trails her eyes up from the bobbing Adam’s apple, trails them along his throat, that looks fucking bite-able. Trails them across his sharp jawline, his plump lips that she  _ knows  _ are soft. She goes further up until she reaches his eyes but he’s not looking into hers. No, instead, he stares at her lips, at the place where she bites down. 

“You know,” Dean breathes out and withdraws his face a little, his thumb of the hand on her cheek comes up to brush over her feature. He trails it along her brows, her nose, resting it on the bottom of her lips, “I try so hard to resist you, but I just can’t.”

There’s a smirk on her face as she opens her mouth and Dean pushes his thumb inside just a little more. She bites down on it lightly, tickles the pad with the tip of her tongue and he groans out some more. 

Y/N sucks in his thumb, hollows out her cheek, and lets it out with a lewd pop, “Then don’t,” She whispers, “I thought you like taking risks,”

He snorts and lays his forehead on hers, “I do, but not with you on the line.”

“We don’t have to tell anyone?” 

That makes him chuckle, makes him surge forward and finally, she felt those sweet lips on hers. It was about goddamn time. He only pecks them twice, though, leaves her craning her neck and wanting so much more.

Dean grins when he sees her chasing his lips and chuckles some more as he places a kiss on her forehead, “You sure don’t make it easy for me, princess,” He mumbles against her skin. 

Parting from her, he looks down and her eyes meet his. It’s that intense feeling between them again, something that makes her stomach flutter. 

“Before I risk everything, princess, I need to know something,”

“What?”

“I need to know if you want it. If you want us to happen.”

She nods eagerly.

He has to chuckle at that, “I mean it. You gotta know that I can’t take you on dates, we can’t act like we’re anything in front of everyone. I can’t even promise you if this is going somewhere—”

“—Dean,” She interrupts his boring speech.

“What?”

“Shut up and fucking kiss me already, I’m dying here!”

He moves closer, chuckles to himself as he whispers against her mouth, “Such a fucking brat,”

Maybe she is, but at the moment, she doesn’t really care. She also doesn’t care if this is going anywhere. She wants him, period. She feels the safest with him and come what may, she’ll welcome it with open arms. 

Dean kisses her gently, almost too soft, as if she’s something delicate, which she is really not, but he knows just how to increase the pressure with that push and pull of his tongue. It’s not fair at all, and when he breaks the kiss to peck her nose, she lets out a whine. 

“Come on,” He chuckles, “What about a drink?” His hands are already working on her apron, pulling it over her head for her. 

“I thought we couldn’t go anywhere? It’ll go back to my dad eventually if someone notices us,” She states and she hates the fact that she’s right. It’s like she just now realizes that Dean was thinking way ahead when he said that he can’t take her to dates because it’s true. They can’t anywhere without being noticed and that’s fucking annoying. 

He takes her hand and pulls her along with him, “I know just a place,” He says and looks back to her with a cocky grin on his face.


	6. Chapter.05

The drive home is spent in perfect silence. There are unspoken words between them and he knows as much as she does that even though they eventually have to talk about it, they are not rushing it. And weirdly, he likes that. Likes that they don’t really have to form words in their heads when there are too many of the words bumping together on the insides of their minds. 

However, when she notices the car coming to a halt before the gate to her home, she frowns at him some more. She has frowned at him before already a couple of times when she notices him heading in the direction of her home. 

Their home. 

At least his temporary one. 

“You’re taking me home?” Her lips press into a straight line, and she’s saying something for the first time since she hopped into the passenger seat of his car. 

She didn’t ask where they were going before getting in, blindly trusting him. He thinks it’s dangerous but also he’s glad that she does. He hopes that she only trusts him and no one else. Feels a weird thing in his gut to know that someone else could take advantage of her. 

“Dean,” Y/N says again when he doesn’t answer right away, and it sounds a little whiny.

It’s exactly like he thought she would react and there’s a little pout that adorably graces her face. It makes him fucking weak.

He wants to kiss that damn pout away, but he knows he can’t so the only thing he can do now is to shrug with an explanation, hoping she’d understand, “It’s the only place that I can take you without raising suspicion, princess.”

She groans out and sinks into her seat. Dean’s expecting a lot of things from her, expects her to maybe throw a tantrum because home is probably not the best place to take a spoiled princess out for a date, but to his surprise, she just keeps her mouth shut with a sigh. She knows as much as he does, that he’s right and she accepts it without protest. 

_ Date _ . It’s not actually a date, is it? He wishes it would be one. Wishes that he would have met her under different circumstances, wishes that she’s not  _ her  _ and he’s not  _ him _ . 

“Why do you call me princess?” She asks as Dean punches in the code to the underground garage. 

He’s caught unprepared and raises his eyebrows, “Huh?”

“Princess. Why do you call me princess?”

He shrugs with a chuckle before he drives down into the garage, “Because you are one.”

“I have to get used to it if you want to keep on calling me that. People only use it when they are annoyed with me.”

“What would you like me to call you?” Not that he will stop calling her princess, because it sounds quite right in his ears, but he’s genuinely curious.

Y/N doesn’t answer him, instead, she plays with the hem of her shirt and he doesn’t press further. 

Dean absolutely hates how she makes him feel. How she awakens things in him that he knows he should not let out to the surface. How she fucks with his mind, head, and body. She makes him want to protect her and he shouldn’t give in, yet he does. How can he not? He has to somehow find a way to work it out. Somehow find a fucking way to make it work on both ends. He’s good, he should be able to pull that off. It’s not even that hard, he worked under much more difficult circumstances before. 

But none of those jobs involved her.

  
  


____________________________________________________

  
  
  


He parks in the underground garage and Dean opens up the trunk to grab a bottle of hard liquor he probably bought before. She wonders if he bought it intending to share it with her. Probably not. Not that she minds. He’s free to do whatever he wants — unlike her. Y/N didn’t see the label, but she guesses that it’s whiskey. She can’t recall seeing him drinking anything else in the short time that she’s known him. 

“You go first,” Dean says and jerks his head towards the door with a wink. 

A funking wink. She thinks it’s ridiculous and rolls her eyes. Ridiculously cute is what it is. It’s not fair.

She turns to walk over to the door, but is pulled back by a tug on her arm. Twisting back around, she meets Dean’s lips, his one arm that’s not holding the bottle sneaks around her waist. His hand goes down to knead her asscheek as he deepens the kiss. God, she melts into it, can’t really help herself.

He breaks the kiss with a hard suck to her lips, making her moan into the cold garage at the loss of his warm mouth. Dean chuckles before he pecks her lips once more. With a smack to her ass, he jerks his head towards the door one more time, “Go!”

When Y/N reaches the foyer, she bumps into her dad who’s sitting on the couch right below the stairs that leads up to the bedrooms. It’s not really too late so she actually shouldn’t be surprised that he’s still up. The real question is, what’s he doing here and why is he not in his office?

She tries not to be too surprised, tries to sound nonchalant, “Hi Dad,” 

Her dad only nods at her and asks with his next breath, “Dean did drive you home, right? Where is he?”

“I don’t know, he’s still checking on something in the car. I’m tired. Good night dad.” She shrugs, her heart thumps fast in her chest and she hopes that it isn’t obvious. She’s actually glad that her dad doesn’t care about her for once.

“Night, Y/N.”

She lowers her head and walks up the stairs. Just when she turns the knob to her room, she hears her dad downstairs.

“I was waiting for you, Dean. Meet me in my office?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah. Sure.”

  
  
  


____________________________________________________

  
  
  


How did he know that something like this would happen? Dean’s used to things not always going as planned. He’s aware of it, knows just what to do if it happens. He’s let the bottle disappear into his suit jacket, knows how to walk and sit so as not to raise suspicion in the bulge of his clothes. 

He’s been walking around with a boner half of the time here, so this is really no different, he guesses. If anything, it’s even less risky because he can explain the alcohol away, can easily explain why he wants a personal bottle, but there’s just no good way to spin his way out of a visible boner. Especially when the only woman around is the princess and all the other men aren’t exactly known to support non-straight male. He’d be lynched if he explains it as him being any other kind of sexually-orientated other than being straight as a fucking stick.

Dean trails behind Azazel, following the older man into his office and Dean can’t lie, his heart is thumping a little faster. 

Does Azazel know? Had he found out that Dean had kissed his daughter? That he made her come on his fingers at the shooting range? 

_ Jesus _ , his dick stirs at the memory. 

_ Not a fucking good time _ , he reminds his dick, hopes that it’ll listen. 

As far as Dean knows, there are no cameras set up at the range, because why would Azazel need proof of something that should not exist in the first place? Still, it bothers the fuck out of Dean and he already thinks about the things Azazel might do to him. Maybe cut off his hand? That’s the thing that’s been inside of his daughter. He thinks about Adam, even if he didn’t know that dude. Thinks about the castration and miraculously, it helps, because his dick goes limp very fucking fast. 

He follows Azazel further into the room and they walk to another corner of the man’s office, where there’s a hideous looking couch. Why does everything have to be so fucking over the top around here anyway? He thinks he’ll never get used to the lavish life they live. It’s not like they can show it off to anyone but themselves. 

“Sit,” Azazel gestures toward the couch and Dean complies. 

And honestly, Dean’s usually not intimidated easily, but there’s something about Azazel that terrifies him. It’s the look in his eyes, Dean guesses. There’s something very dark, very dangerous hidden behind it. 

“What is it?” Dean asks as he casually crosses his legs while spreading his one arm over the back of the couch to show his boss that he’s relaxed — which he absolutely isn’t, but the man doesn’t need to know that.

Azazel sits down across from Dean and picks up the glass that’s resting on the table in front of him. He’s probably been drinking for a while before he notices them getting home, notices that the garage door has been opened and closed. Dean knows that there’s a security camera above the garage door, which means he must have been watching and waiting for Dean, and that usually, is never a good sign.

“You want a drink?” He asks Dean before answering the question Dean left hanging in the room.

“No, thank you.” Dean shakes his head, rubs his sweaty hands up and down his slacks. Why are his hands sweating? God, this is not going well, he should fucking focus!

Well, he actually does want a drink very fucking much but he also wants to get out of here as fast as possible, plus, who knows how long he’ll be in here once he starts to drink with his boss.

The man nods his head, “So,” He starts and looks at Dean before taking a sip from his tumbler, “I heard about the incident.”

Dean can hear his heartbeat thumping loudly in his ears. He ignores it and frowns a little, just a tad, not too hard because that would make it suspicious when all he wants is not to raise any suspicions, “Incident?”

“Yeah,” Azazel nods, “With Benny.”

Biting on his tongue, Dean tries to keep his face nonchalant, doesn’t allow himself to show relief that the King didn’t mean the other incident. The more indecent one. Jesus and now he’s thinking about him fingering her again, what the fuck is wrong with him? He breathes steadily to calm himself down, thinks about Adam, about castration, dead bodies, severed limbs. Okay, it works. 

Dean chuckles when he calmed himself down enough, “Yeah, he wanted to take the girl for ransom until the father could gather the money to pay tomorrow. I told him not to do it because that’s not what we do and he should fucking know.”

“Uh-huh,” Azazel nods, takes another sip before he leans back, “He does know. He’s hot-headed.”

“Yeah,” Dean scoffs.

The older man leans forward, braces his elbows on his knees before he speaks in a low whisper, “I want you to keep an eye on him.”

When Dean frowns a little, Azazel goes on, “I have the feeling something’s not right. Benny doesn’t act like he used to. I’m just waiting for him to make a mistake. I need proof before I can take further action.”

Dean nods and is actually glad that Azazel noticed these things himself. A boss must be blind if he doesn’t see it. Dean wonders though, if he should tell him about Bela and Nick. About their involvement with Benny but again, Dean has no actual proof either so he keeps his mouth shut.

Azazel takes another sip, groans loudly as the burn travels down his throat and Dean swallows his excess saliva, because he too would like to feel the burn right about now. The man looks at him, “You know, the saddest thing about betrayal is, that it never comes from your enemies.”

Nodding, Dean agrees, how can he not. He’s not the poster child for loyalty in this family. 

“You’re a good man, Dean,” Azazel says, “I see you bonded with my daughter. She can be a pain in the ass, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Dean snorts, glad that the man changes the subject. Not so glad that the subject landed on his only daughter, though.

“Keep her in check, okay? You’re doing a good job so far, I’m impressed. Bobby was right about you. Just—” Azazel takes another sip, “—don’t try anything funny with her. She’s spoken for.”

“Oh, I would never,” Dean shakes his head, maybe a little too enthusiastic, but he hopes that it sounds somewhat convincing. 

_ She’s spoken for _ , Dean knows about that. Knows that there is only one good use for a daughter in this family, he doesn't think she knows about her dad’s plans, and honestly, Dean doesn’t know them yet either. He hopes to try to defuse the situation once it’s clear which family is interested in making a deal with the Lehne’s, though. Hopes that there’s still time until then.

“Good,” Azazel chuckles.

“Is that all, sir? I wanna catch some shut-eye. Benny’s supposed to go meet with the owner of the restaurant again and I want to go along, you know, keep him in line.”

“Yeah, you should,” Azazel looks up and Dean stands up, straightens his suit as he goes, “Good night.”

“Night, sir.”

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


Dean walks to his room first, drops his jacket in there, and rolls up his sleeves. He splashes water over his face, cooling himself down from the talk with Azazel. There are so many unanswered questions that are floating around in his head but he doesn’t really have time to sort them, nor does he have all the answers to the questions. Dean knows that he needs to be patient, it’s not his best trait if he’s honest.

When he lifts his head from the sink to look into his reflection in the mirror, his eyes catch her standing behind him and Dean jumps up in surprise. 

_ Didn’t he lock the door?  _

Dean indeed doesn’t recall. He usually locks his door. Always does. It became a habit.

Here he is minding his own fucking business and was about to text her, saying if she’s still up for a drink, she should leave her door unlocked, but he guesses that she’d beat him to it. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N!” He hisses in a low pitch, “You shouldn’t be here.”

_ This girl, seriously. _

Dean’s head starts to hurt from all the spinning that it does with her around him.

What if someone saw her on the way here? What if someone decides to knock at Dean’s door and comes in uninvited to find her in here? There’s not one single fucking good way to spin it, and they both know it. He’s sure she knows it because she’s not fucking dumb. 

No, if someone’s dumb it’s him. Dumb for letting his fucking heart rule his head and body, but that’s a whole other story.

Dean’s not entirely opposed to the idea of her being here, but he’d have loved it if he would have been given a heads up so that he can make sure that they take the necessary precautions. He’s thorough, but she’s making it hard for him to fucking think straight. 

He wasn’t lying when he told her that he fucking likes taking risks, but he also wasn’t lying when he said that he doesn’t like to take them with her on the fucking line. 

Groaning out, Dean rolls his eyes, for the dramatic effect. He rubs a hand over his face and threads it through his hair while he tries to think rationally. 

“Well, I was tired of waiting,” She sighs, and crosses her arms over her chest, pouts a little too, equally dramatic.

The fabric stretches over her tits and Dean can clearly see her nipples through the white oversized t-shirt she’s wearing, because she’s a fucking tease and didn’t even bother to wear a bra to come over here. He can see the black panties shimmering through the shirt. At least there’s fucking that, he thinks, because his will power is hanging by a fucking thread. Not that some stupid panties could stand in the way in the first place, but it just seems to calm his mind right now knowing that she’s not completely naked underneath.

His gaze flickers from her to the bedroom and it’s like she’s reading his mind because she smirks, “I locked the door, in case you were wondering. And well, if you didn’t want anyone in here you should maybe learn to lock it, too.” Her eyes challenge him through the mirror.

Dean turns around to finally face her. He leans his lower back against the sink, reaches back to brace both his hands on the sink counter while he takes his time to look her up and down. The shirt is too big. He wonders if it belongs to someone, wonders if it once belonged to Adam. He grips the sink a little tighter, his knuckles turning white.

He swallows before clearing his throat, “Your father says you’re a pain in the ass and I can not agree more. At least you’re giving me major headaches, princess.”

She smirks when she takes a step towards him and then another and one more, up until she’s standing in his fucking space, her feet slotted in between his spread stance. Her hands reach out to touch the side of his body and Dean lets her. He quite enjoys how she’s both — shy and straight forward at the same time. It’s a lethal combination, it tests his fucking patience and makes him second guess every oath he was made to swear in order to work this job.

Her hands tug at his shirt, fingers pressing into his sides and she stands up on the tip of her toes before she leans her body to his. Her tits feel soft against his chest and even though he knows full well that he  _ shouldn’t _ , he’s giving in, because how can he not. Dean shudders slightly at the feel of the softness of her pressing against him, but he doesn’t dare to touch her yet. Maybe out of fear that he wouldn’t be able to stop once he starts. He’s sure she wouldn’t even mind, but he  _ should  _ mind. And somehow, he has the feeling that she notices the inner fight Dean’s having with himself because she’s grinning. It’s all cocky and bravado. 

Y/N cranes her neck, and Dean leans down, meeting her halfway. Every rational fiber in his body that screams for him not to kiss her is being actively ignored by his heart that is overruling his head. Their lips ghost over each other, not quite touching. He waits. He doesn’t know what for. She makes the first move — maybe he did wait for that — kisses him soft and sweet. 

Too sweet. 

So fucking sweet it almost hurts.

“What about that drink?” She whispers against his mouth, and Dean swallows down the sound of her voice, kisses her again, rougher, more desperate, as if he’s pouring all the frustrations eating him up on the inside into the kiss. She doesn’t mind, only breathes out a low groan when he bites on her bottom lip. He bites some more, eliciting moans from her lips, does it some more, deliberately, so that he can swallow down that sound too.

He grins when he parts, but he leaves his lips on hers. His voice is strained from the kiss, “Turn on the shower and I’ll go get the bottle.”

“What?”

“Trust me. Just do what I say, okay?”

She frowns at him at first, her mouth opens and closes as if she wants to fight him and he’d be prepared to talk her down but to his surprise, she turns around and walks into the shower, turns on the showerhead while she jumps out and away from the spray in order to not get wet. He watches the scene with amusement in his eyes. His heart aches when he thinks of these little carefree moments. When she’s just a girl and he’s just a man with no names attached. Life’s not fucking fair, is it? 

Leaving her behind in his bathroom, Dean walks out into the bedroom, checking again if she really locked the door. Not that he doesn’t trust her — she’s probably the only member in the family he trusts fully — but because he’s thorough and he’d rather be safe than sorry. 

When he returns into the bathroom, she’s sitting with her back leaned against the bathtub, the sound of the water raining down in the shower is loud, but that’s just what he wanted. If someone is nosy in the house and comes snooping, they would think that Dean’s taking a long shower and wouldn’t be alarmed by the hushed voices coming out of his room. 

He walks over and sits down next to her with a grunt. It has been a long day after all. She chuckles, but Dean chooses to ignore it. 

They are sitting shoulder to shoulder, their legs stretched out, and Dean unscrews the bottle, taking a large swig from it before holding it out for her to take. Y/N takes an equally large swig which makes Dean’s eyebrows rise up on his forehead, and he’s about to stop her but the damage has already been done. She hands him back the bottle, brushing over her mouth with the back of her hand before she squints and shakes her head at the burn. 

He chuckles softly, thinks it’s fucking adorable.

“You okay?” He asks before taking another gulp of the brown liquid. Dean welcomes the burn and closes his eyes to relish himself in the feel. It’s definitely what he needed tonight.

“Yeah,” She’s coughing a little, but she nods and grabs at the bottle, tears it away from him. Dean can only watch with a smirk. 

“How well do you know Bela?” He asks bluntly. Mainly because he doesn’t know how to sugarcoat it, doesn’t have the patience to talk around it either. 

She chokes with a mouthful of liquor, spluttering out some around the corner of her lips, and coughs some more. Dean rubs at her back while she regains her composure.

“Why?” She asks with a hoarse voice as she turns to him, whiskey still around her mouth, her eyes teary. 

Still adorable, he can’t lie about that.

He reaches out a hand, thumb brushing at the liquor that’s still on the corner of her lips before he sucks the thumb back into his own mouth. Dean thinks it’s sweeter than drinking from the bottle, but that must be his mind playing tricks on him.

“Are you interested in Bela? She’s got someone as far as I know,” Y/N snaps at him and turns away, taking another large swig and that’s when Dean realizes that he phrased the question wrong. It’s cute though. It’s adorable how jealous she gets, even if they aren’t anything either. 

“Jesus, princess!” Dean rubs a hand over his face, “Did you forget what happened today?” He grabs the bottle back from her grip, takes a gulp and he can see from the corner of his eyes that she’s watching him. 

“No, of course not. I found it weird that she was here. But I have learned not to ask questions, especially when it involves Benny,” She says, and adds, “She’s my best friend. At least she was. She doesn’t have a lot of time for me anymore, though. We grew up in this house together, you know. ”

Ah, that explains why she’s so chill about it. Dean gets mad when he thinks about her upbringing, gets sad, too. It’s fucked up. People are scheming under her roof and she doesn’t dare to ask questions out of fear of being dismissed and talked down. That’s no fucking way to live. It’s her life too and the least she should be allowed to know is what’s going on under her own damn roof. On the other hand, he’s glad that she doesn’t know. Because that makes her less of a target. The less she knows the better and he thinks that’s why Azazel is keeping things from her. He hates that the old man is actually doing one thing right.

“Can you do me a favor?” Dean asks as he sets the bottle down.

“Sure.” She says with a shrug, pulling her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around them.

He pauses to think about what he’s going to say. Pauses to think about how much he can actually reveal to her. He wants her to look out for herself, but he doesn’t have much proof to tell her the whole story since he hasn’t started to investigate yet. 

“Can you not talk about us to her? About  _ this _ ?” He gestures with his index finger between the both of them, “I’d say not until I figure out what’s going on, but honestly, I don’t want you to talk to her at all.”

There’s a frown on her face and she toys with the hem of her shirt, pulling the oversized garment over her knees and the hole of her neckline stretches out. Dean can literally see down her front. He tries not to look but he fails. In his defense, he’s only a man. He can only take so much teasing and she’s been a fucking tease the whole day already, which is not really fair. 

Y/N hugs her knees closer to her chest, minimizing the gap of her neckline in the process, “You have nothing to worry about,” She says and tilts her head to look at him, her chin is resting on her knees, “As I said, we haven’t really talked that lengthy in months.” 

There’s a sadness Dean can hear from the tone of her voice, something that makes his heart heavy, as if it fills itself with lead. It literally hurts him to see that she’s so alone in this world. 

“You know, you talking to me like this is the closest I’ve come to talking to anyone in ages,” She tries to make a brave face and Dean hands her the bottle, letting her take a swig out of it. She looks at him after, “So, do you want to tell me what this is all about?”

Dean chuckles, tries to swallow down the sadness in her words that hit him square in the chest, his tongue comes out to wet his bottom lip, “I can not tell you yet, but I will as soon as I know,” 

“Promise?” She lifts an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” He smiles genuinely, “I promise.”

“Good,” She nods and Dean notices her smiling too, but it’s less sincere. Her smile is laced with doubt.

He reaches out a hand, brushes at the hair that’s fallen in her face and obstructs his view of her, tucks it behind her ear and she looks down. His fingertips brush against her soft cheeks as he paints a line down her jawline to cup her chin between his fingers. 

“Hey,” He whispers, but it’s loud enough for her to hear him, “I promise okay? C’mon,” Dean pats his lap, because from the way she’s hugging her knees, he has the feeling that she needs something to hold on to and god knows how much he needs that too.

Y/N’s eyes widen. It’s really cute.

“Come on,” Dean pulls at the arm of her shirt playfully.

Her eyebrows are raised and Dean wiggles with his own, a playful grin on his lips as he pats his lap once more with a jerk of his head.

She rolls her eyes and lets out a groan, but he knows it’s only for show because she releases her knees from her tight grip and pulls them out of her shirt before she inches closer to him on her ass. 

As soon as she’s close enough, Dean grips at her arm and lifts her up into his lap, sitting sideways right over his crotch. His dick twitches in interest at the unfamiliar feel of another warm body, but Dean ignores it. He wraps his arms around her, pulls her head down to rest on his shoulder. 

He kisses the top of her head while rubbing a hand down her back and he can feel the tension ebbing out of her body. She buries her face deeper into the crook of his neck and they stay like that for some time. Dean thinks it’s weird how she fits into his arms, weird how easy it actually is with her. He’s almost angry that there’s a whole mob family between them.

“Thanks,” She mumbles into his skin, her warm breath awakes goosebumps along his spine.

“For what?” He asks, kisses the top of her head once more. 

He thinks he knows, he just really likes to hear it.

“For holding me,” She places a kiss on his throat, right where his heart is pulsing underneath his skin, sucks at it too, and Dean lets out a sound that’s unfamiliar to him. She chuckles before she releases his skin, “Nobody has done that for a very long time.” 

Y/N looks up to him, and he thinks that for the very first time, he sees a genuine smile on her face. It does things to him, Dean can’t lie about that. She sits up straighter, her ass cheek rubs against his crotch and there’s the stirring of his dick underneath the clothing. He wouldn’t be able to hide it even if he tried — not that he would want to at this point. 

He releases his hold on her so she could sit more comfortably, still on top of him, though. Not that he wants her any other way. One hand rubs along her thighs and he watches her tugging at her bottom lip with her teeth. He reaches up with his other hand, thumbs over her plush bottom lip. 

She grins mischievously, and bites down on his thumb, giggles as she does it and Dean laughs with her. However, the laughter dies down quite quickly when she tickles his thumb with the tip of her tongue before sucking it into her mouth. 

The sound he lets out is not really human, and Dean should maybe be ashamed of it, he just doesn’t find it in himself to care. 

Y/N releases his thumb with a last suck, pops it out wetly and Dean just can’t hold himself back any longer. He closes in, kisses her with hunger and desire, all the pent up sexual feelings poured into one kiss. He sucks her tongue, making her moan loudly into his mouth, and again, he swallows down the sound, as if it could prolong his life. 

His hands are kneading her flesh, fingers digging deep into her thigh as he places a hand on the back of her neck to draw her closer. Her hands are spread on his cheeks, the scratching of his scruff against her palm is loud. 

God, she’s so soft in his arms, and Dean can’t get enough, wants more. So much more. He’s getting greedy with her, it’s not a good trait, he hopes she doesn’t mind. He hugs her close to his chest as he stands up with her in his arms, their lips still attached. He tries his best not to knock over the bottle of whiskey but honestly, he doesn’t really care about it anymore. 

He breaks the kiss with a last suck of her delicious lip, and to be honest, the alcohol is long forgotten. He wants to get drunk on something else and he has the feeling that she knows that too, “C’mon, let’s shower,” 

Dean drops her back on her feet and the look she gives him is super cute, which is a mixture of a frown and a smirk, but he can detect excitement in her eyes.

“C’mon,” He says again and chuckles as his hand pulls his shirt out from his pants, fingers working on the buttons.


	7. Chapter.06

Dean notices that she’s watching him, probably not quite trusting him. She’s doubting his words, wonders if he really means it, because he can see it in her eyes. But hell, he does. He really does. 

Right now, he needs a shower more than anything, needs to rinse off the day before he can concentrate on anything else, and showering with her would be so much more fun than alone. He wriggles his eyebrows as he throws his shirt to the ground carelessly before he starts to unbuckle his belt. 

Y/N’s still looking at him weirdly, but he sees her hand fisting around the hem of her shirt shyly. She’s lifting it up enough for him to see the apex of her thigh, a little triangle of plain black panties. He has to bite the inside of his cheek so as not to make too loud of a sound because the noises he’s making tonight are really starting to get embarrassing.

He watches her bite down on her bottom lip again when he pulls his belt out of the loops of his pants, and she’s still toying with the hem of her shirt. He knows it’s because she wants to wait as he’s still wearing more than she does, and he guesses that she wants to see how far he really goes without bluffing. They haven’t even seen each other naked yet and he wants her to shower with him. If Dean was her, he’d think it’s weird too, he can’t blame her for acting as she does. 

That’s right, they haven’t seen each other without clothes yet but Dean has already fucked her on his fingers, knows exactly how wet and warm her pussy feels. He tasted the sweet taste of her lips on the tip of his tongue and he’s greedy. He wants more. There’s no way for him to back out, no matter how hard he would really want to. Which is not hard at all right now.

His fingers pull down his zipper next and there she is, lifting her shirt a little higher, showing her stomach with a cheeky grin. God, he’s such a goner for that kind of grin. In fact, he hates it so much that he wants to fucking kiss it off her face. 

Her panties have a little red bow on them, and it feels like she’s a fucking present for someone. For him. And it’s not fair that a simple little piece of fabric turns him on. Not fair at all. It’s not that he has never seen a woman in panties before. Dean has had a fair share of women in his life. It’s just— 

—none of them affects him as she does.

And finally, she pulls the shirt up, her soft tits jiggle as she lifts her arms over her head. Dean watches in awe, almost mesmerized as he lets his pants drop to the floor. He steps out of them and clears his throat when he catches her staring at him without blinking. The color rises in her cheeks and he thinks it’s fucking adorable. 

He takes a step closer, bends down quickly to take off his socks, almost falls flat on his face, but saves himself gracefully by reaching a hand to grab at the bathtub. She giggles when he stands back up, and Dean waves an arm around her waist, pulls her closer, shuts up her giggling with a hard press of his lips to hers.

Dean parts after, leaving her breathless and wanting more, just how he likes it, and he’s a little shit for doing it, he knows. He takes a step back and hooks his thumb into the waistband of his underwear, pulling them down. The fabric strains at his cock because it’s a little more than semi-hard by now with all the teasing and kissing. He has to use one hand to safely tug his cock out and slide the fabric down with his other hand. And while he’s doing it, she watches him with her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. 

Rarely does he feel self-conscious about himself, about his appearance, and Dean knows that’s he’s probably alright looking, he wouldn’t go as far to think that he’s hot, but he knows that he doesn’t really have to be ashamed of the way he looks, but also he knows that she is, because she’s covering herself a little and Dean doesn’t want that. She showed him enough for him to know that there’s really nothing she should feel embarrassed about. 

Taking a step forward and towards her, he cups her chin between his fingers and points her face up so he can kiss her.

“Let me,” He whispers into the kiss, and before she can ask what he means by that, Dean kneels down. 

He lets his hand trail along the elastic of her panties and he can’t  _ not  _ play with that little bow, toying it with the tip of his index finger before he hooks it inside her panties, pulling down the little piece of fabric agonizingly slow because he feels like it’s a treat, feels like it’s a fucking present on Christmas morning.

Dean tries his best not to make another weird sound, bites on his tongue because he can’t let her see how much she already affects him by just letting him take off her panties. He’s affected by catching one little glimpse of her bare pussy. Well, it’s hard to actually hide the effects when he thinks of it, as his hard cock kind of gives everything away. 

He gets up again, his hand brushing against her perky nipple and she squirms a little, making him chuckle under his breath. Dean takes her hand, pulls her along into the generous shower. It’s certainly big enough to fit both of them. They could even invite three more people and they would all still have enough space in here. Too bad that he’s greedy and he’s not sharing. 

They stay under the spray, wetting themselves and he reaches out a hand to grab at his body wash before squirting a generous amount into the palm of his hand. She holds out hers too, demanding he squirts it into her palm as well, and Dean complies with a chuckle. He then pushes her away out of the spray and begins to rub the soap over her, massaging her body as he goes.

He lets her soap up his chest and she pauses to let her fingertip bump over every scar she sees.

There’s particularly thick scar tissue just above his chest, slightly below his shoulder and she lets her fingertips trail over the bump.

“Bullet?” She whispers with concern in her voice and eyes.

“Yeah,” Dean breathes out, tries not to squirm because it’s his latest injury and sometimes he can still feel it, “I got in the way.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” 

He watches her trailing her eyes along his chest, over to his arm. She places her hand on another scar, “A knife?” 

Dean probably should be wondering how she knows which scars a weapon would leave on his body, and he would be worried if it was someone else, but she’s probably seen a fair share of injuries and scars tissue. 

“Yeah, angry rival gang,” He lies. She doesn’t need to know that his cover blew up while he was undercover at a drug deal and the man stabbed him before Dean could pull out his gun from its holster.

She bites on her bottom lip as she inspects him some more. Her hands trailing along his arms and body, soaping him up and caressing his skin at the same time. It feels good, he enjoys it, which is also something he never lets anyone do. He can’t even remember the last time he let anyone come so close to his scars. Having sex is a whole other story, the women usually don’t dwell on the marks on his skin. He watches her frown when her palm travels over bumpy territory. 

Dean leans forward and kisses her forehead. He raises his hand to her face, lets his knuckle brush along her cheek, “It’s nothing. I’m still alive.”

“Still,” She mumbles.

“C’mon,” Dean says, cups her chin with his thumb and forefinger and tilts her head up, making her look him in the eyes and she reluctantly does, still with concern in her eyes, “Baby, don’t worry about it, okay?” He kisses her then, walks her backward under the spray with his lips still attached to hers, only parting to wash off the soap from their bodies before he pushes her back against the shower wall. 

“Baby,” She breathes out and grins against his lips. 

He breaks the kiss to look at her, raising his eyebrow as he does. 

“Baby,” She smiles and says it again, “I like that much more than princess.”

Dean chuckles, “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” 

He’s still smiling, has to nibble at her lips to not make it too obvious that he too, likes the sound of it much better. It sounds like it’s something only he says, only he’s allowed to say, “Then I’m gonna say it more often. Baby, baby, ba—” He kisses her hungrily, licking into her mouth which she parts for him so easily, his big hands touch her everywhere. He can’t really help it. Has the need to feel her up. Her tits feel soft in his palm as he gives them attention, kneading and squeezing them to his satisfaction. She squeals when he rolls her nipples between his fingers and he pinches them until they peak even more than they already do. Dean has to kiss her even harder in order to effectively shut her up, “Shhh, gotta be quiet.” He whispers against her swollen and wet lips.

She nods at him while she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth and Dean can’t really hold himself back now, has accepted that he’s lost the fight, and pushes her harder against the tiled wall. He kisses her more roughly, more demanding as a hand kneads at her flesh on the side of her hips and his other one goes down to her pussy. He groans into the kiss when he feels how wet she is when he threads his fingers through her slippery folds. Her juice pools between her thighs, something he knows for sure, is definitely not water. 

Dean bites down on her lips, harder than he intends to but in his defense, his head is pretty much clouded with everything about her. With the softness of her skin, with the taste of her inside his mouth, with the wetness of her cunt. He’s so far gone, there’s no coherent thought running through his head — which should actually frighten him but it really doesn’t. 

She squeals in delight at the same time he groans because she now has his dick in her hand and god, the way she holds it borders on too painful but somehow it’s just fucking right. Dean doesn’t even recognize himself anymore, can’t even explain the level of how fucked up he is in his head. He is whipped from head to toe. 

Y/N works his length with both her hands, moves up and down in a slow pace and he’s thankful because if it was any faster he’d shamelessly come instantly, and  _ that _ would be embarrassing, since he thinks he’s the more experienced one out of the two of them. The one who should be able to hold himself together better. 

Dean risks a glance down, but immediately regrets it because he looks huge against her delicate fingers. It’s a fucking turn on and he has to kiss her to stifle the sounds he makes.

Carefully, he pushes his one finger inside of her wet cunt and it goes in easily. He feels it fluttering around his single digit, welcoming him in like the last time. She moans against his shoulder, teeth scraping along his skin. Dean bites on his tongue to suppress his own groan. God, he can’t help but imagine his dick in there and  _ Jesus _ , his cock twitches in the palm of her hand.

“You okay?” He has to ask because she now has her face buried in the crook of his neck and Dean can’t see her. He has that weird urge to know and to always make sure that he’s not hurting her. 

“Uh-huh,” She whispers, licks the patch of skin on his shoulder where she sank her teeth in. 

“Uh-huh?” He chuckles.

“More, I want more,” She manages to say while she bucks her hips against his finger, seemingly wanting more. 

_ God, this girl. _

He slips in his middle finger, feeling her tightening at the new digit. It’s a fucking tight fit, it has him groaning out but he catches himself on time, closes his lips and the sound gets lodged in his throat. 

Y/N helps him by lifting her one leg to hook it around his hips. She’s totally blissed out when his fingers hit her just right. Dean curves them some more, rubs against her inner wall, searches for the sweet spot. 

“Ffffuck,” It comes out a hiss while she bites down on her bottom lip. That’s when he knows that he’s hit it just right. 

She moves her hips, bucks up to him as if she can’t get enough. He loves that, loves how she tries to take what he gives her. 

“Dean,” It’s a whisper and she buries her face back into the crook of his neck. He hates it, hates that he can’t see her face. That he can’t see how much he affects her, too.

“Baby, what?” He’s true to his words, wants to say it as much as he can. The word sounds good in his ears. 

She’s mumbling something against his skin, he can’t make out what. The water is raining down on them loudly. 

“Huh? You gotta tell me, baby. Use your words,” 

“Ah,” She’s basically humping his fingers, Dean thinks it’s fucking great. Her teeth scrape along his shoulder, tongue licking the water off his skin, “Harder, I want it harder,” And she’s back to burying her face into his neck, probably feels ashamed of her demand.

Who is Dean to deny her this? 

He chuckles, “You want it harder, huh? Rougher too?” 

“Uh-huh,” She nods her head and noses along his pulse point. 

_ Jesus, this fucking girl. _

His cock twitches in her grip. She’s only got one hand on him now while she claws around his neck with her other one. Fingers digging into his skin, nails sinking into his flesh. Dean doesn’t mind. 

“Uh-huh?” He asks again, but doesn’t really wait for an answer. He doesn’t really need to as he doesn’t want her to feel uncomfortable, “Look up for me, baby,”

And she does. 

She looks up at him with a flustered face and there’s a little frown. One of his hands goes around her throat while he still finger fucks her hard, just like she wants it. Dean pushes her harder against the wall, and she cranes her neck for even better access for his hand, doesn’t fucking tell him to stop. 

His mind can’t form words on how much he loves it. Loves how she’s pliant in his fucking hands. It isn’t long before she comes on his fingers, her eyes cross, which again, is awfully cute how she can zone out like that. Her lips open and close in a silent gasp, and Dean kisses her as she gushes around his fingers. He has to take a step back to get out of her grip around his cock because her hand tightens around his length and he’s so close to creaming himself.

“Dean,” She says breathlessly, her chest heaves and Dean releases her throat before he dips his head down, sucking a nipple into his mouth, tongue twirling around it. The hand that was around his cock is now on the back of his head, nails digging into his scalp as she draws him closer, pulling him into her chest, “Dean, I want you to fuck me,” She whispers as she dips her head down and kisses his hair.

Dean groans with her nipple still between his teeth upon hearing her say those words. She’s fucking with his mind because yeah, he’d like to do that too. He quickly releases her tit with a lewd pop in order to be able to stand back up and claim her mouth. He kisses her roughly and she matches his pace. Which is something he also fucking loves about her. Loves how he can catch up with his kisses.

_ God, this fucking girl, seriously.  _

“When I fuck you, baby,” He whispers against her lips and pauses to suck in her bottom lip, he bites down on it too, just to hear her moan, “I’m gonna do it right. I want you on a bed.” 

Well, Dean was never the one to turn down a great offer, he honestly would do it in here too, but not with her. He wants her spread out under him, wants to be able to hear everything that comes out of that sweet mouth, even though he also knows that they have to keep it low. Still, he’d like to do it without hearing the constant rain of water and standing up. At least not for the first time that he gets to be inside of that sweet pussy of hers.

Quickly, Y/N releases his dick and pushes him away so that she can walk out of the shower. Taking a towel from the stack, she dries herself off and the only thing Dean can do is watch her with a raise of his eyebrow. He watches as she wraps the towel around herself, securing it with a knot and Dean thinks it’s cute. She’s probably doing it because she’s embarrassed to be naked around him.

It’s another thing he wants to erase from her mind. The insecurities. At least he’s going to try.

“Come on,” She whispers in a hiss and there’s an amused look in her eyes as she stands there and takes another towel from the stack. She holds the towel up for him, “What are you waiting for?”

Dean chuckles under his breath, shakes his head as he takes a last dip under the spray, letting the water wash away the blush in his face before he turns off the showerhead.

_ This fucking girl. _


	8. Chapter.07

Y/N waits for Dean to finally come out from the showers. She watches him dip his head under the water spray, sees the color rising on his cheeks. It’s quite adorable how he blushes. She’d never seen another man like him. There’s certainly something mysterious about Dean. Something she can’t quite put her finger on. 

He’s all hard-edged, grumpy looking, is righteous to the bones as he always strives to please her Dad, but also there’s another side of him. The vulnerable side, the scars tissues on his body, each of them with their own story to tell. She can see that he’s been through a lot and her heart aches for the hurt he’s gone through. There’s also a caring side to him, the side that wants to make sure that she’s okay, even though he doesn’t have to. The side that sits down with her and likes to talk to her. She couldn’t miss the conflict in his eyes, especially at the beginning when she invaded his personal space and kissed him. But after that, the conflict was gone and it’s like he accepted whatever struggle he had inside of himself and kissed her back.

Dean treats her like she has feelings, which is completely different from how others treat her. He makes her think that she is worth something in this family, and he doesn’t even really know her. There’s also the side of Dean who treats her like she’s fragile, but that’s maybe because she is. She hasn't been held in a pretty long time and it’s like he knew. It’s like Dean somehow knew that in that moment, she needed to be held more than anything. 

And she’s thankful for that. Especially now, after what happened today. She wonders what’s going on behind her back, but she’s drilled to look away, always have, so she’s torn between wanting to know more and not wanting to know anything at all. Torn, between getting out of this fucking cage and stand up for herself, and living in the comfortable home and position she’s in. 

However, Dean promised her to tell her more once he knows and some might call her naïve, and maybe she is, but she trusts that he will. Right now, he’s the only one she trusts, and he’s not even family. What does that say about her family, really? 

She just hopes that he’s not risking too much. She’d hate to see him leave — or hurt. The latter is probably more likely to happen.

But, that’s a thought she wants to push out of her head tonight. It has no place in her happy mind, which is already light from the alcohol and clouded from the amazing orgasm. The color rises in her own cheeks when she thinks about it. God, his fingers can do things she never thought fingers could. Magic fingers, are what they are.

Holding the towel up for him, Y/N watches Dean turn off the shower with an easy grin on his face. She tries not to look at what’s hanging between his thighs. God, she held it in her hands and it’s huge. At least compared to Adam’s, because that’s the only comparison she has. Even though she tries not to actively look at it, she still gets a glimpse of Dean’s manhood, and it’s not hanging per se. It’s standing at attention, although not as much as before, but it’s still standing at a good angle and she has to bite down on her bottom lip so as not to squeal again by the sheer sight of it. It’s ridiculous, really.  _ She’s  _ ridiculous for looking at it so intensely.

It’s as if he knows because the grin on his face turns cocky when he walks towards her. She notices his scars, which still worry her and makes her sad, but she also notices Dean’s freckles. He’s freckled all over and she thinks it suits him. Makes him even cuter, if that’s possible.

Dean takes the towel from her hands and bends down a little to steal a kiss and she chuckles against his lips because she likes that, likes how easy it feels with him. 

Y/N feels like she doesn’t have to act around him, there's no need to. She doesn’t have to pretend to be someone else, doesn’t have to pretend to be normal, because he knows  _ what  _ she is, he knows how risky it is, and yet, he still wants her, which blows her fucking mind. 

He dries himself off, and she tries to ignore the bouncing of his cock, and has a hard time avoiding looking directly at it because the penis is still kind of funny to her. It’s funny how it bounces around with every move he makes.

Running the towel over his head and wiping his face, Dean looks at her again with a smirk. With the damp hair that is sticking out in every direction and the easiness of his smile, Dean looks younger. Looks more adorable. A man with a boyish-charm around him. He looks like someone she could easily fall in love with.

The creases run deep around his eyes, but it doesn’t necessarily make him older. If anything, it’s making him even more attractive than he already is. And  _ that  _ is totally unfair to her.

Dean hangs up his towel on a rack and even though she knows what she actually wants, she can’t help but be all shy about it. It’s weird, isn’t it? Like, she knows she wants that dick inside of her, but she can’t possibly bring herself to act like she does. 

What’s the proper etiquette? She doesn’t fucking know! 

Adam always took the lead, but with Dean she wants to change that, she wants to be able to blow his mind, too. Wants him to know that she isn’t the shy girl, that she’s strong and capable, that she knows what she fucking wants. And she wants him. Oh god, she wants him so much. 

She’s so embarrassed though, how can she take the lead when she’s so inexperienced? Dean probably has had a lot of girls. Who could even say no to him anyway? 

While Y/N’s still gnawing on her bottom lip and working out in her mind on what to do next, Dean turns around and the smirk is still on his face. It widens to a grin when he sees that she looks kind of lost. At least she can imagine that she looks lost, that’s because she fucking is. And he’s amused about it. 

It also seems that Dean knows just what to do or say because as he reaches out a hand, his fingers skim along the edge of the towel across her chest. 

He hooks a finger in between, tugging at it slightly, “You’re wearing way too much.”

Looking down at herself, she hesitates and bites on her cheeks on the inside of her mouth. If she’d lose it, he’d see everything. And she knows, she fucking knows, that he’s seen her before, but his eyes are even more intense now and the green that’s she usually sees in them, turn several shades darker. It frightens her and turns her on at the same time.

“I’m not as brave as you,” She blurts out with the truth. 

Dean senses her discomfort somehow because he weaves his hands around her waist, pulls her closer to him and there’s really no space between him and her anymore. 

“What do you mean?” He asks with a slight frown when he looks down at her.

God, those eyes. She could get lost in them. 

She snaps back from her momentary haze, trying not to get too lost in Dean’s eyes, and instead, she lets her eyes wander downwards to look at his chest. That’s much safer than the eyes. However, now she’s playing connect the dots with his freckles and that’s probably not good either because Dean’s hand squeezes her. 

“Baby, what do you mean?”

Groaning out, she lets her forehead rest on that freckled chest, sighs one more time, “Because I don’t feel like I should be naked in front of you. You look so yummy and I look so bleugh.”

She feels the rumble of bass underneath her forehead. Dean’s whole body convulses and there’s a heartily laugh coming out of his throat. He catches himself quickly, though, knowing full well they shouldn’t make too much of a noise. 

Dean moves back a little and unwinds his hand from around her waist to cup her chin between his fingers. He tilts it up and she once again, looks into his beautiful eyes, “Yummy? Bleugh?”

“Yeah?”

“Baby,” Dean starts to say and yeah, she definitely loves the sound of it better than princess, also she thinks it’s cute how he really tries to use it more often now that he knows, “You’re not bleugh.” 

“Oh, please,” She frowns, “Have you seen you, and have you seen me?”

He chuckles again, inching his face closer, his nose brushing hers. There’s another chuckle before he kisses her. The kiss is soft and gentle, not the way they kissed before. Dean breaks the kiss with a last suck to her lips and she’s still in the zone, chasing his lips with hers. 

Pecking her nose, he releases her chin and brushes over her cheek with his knuckles, “I’ve seen you, yeah. You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?”

God, her cheeks feel hot all of a sudden and she quickly turns her face away from him. 

Dean kisses her cheek and rubs over her arms, “Come on, go to my bed, I’ll get the clothes.”

“‘K,” She says and begins to walk out, but Dean holds her back, pulling at her arm. 

His fingers tug on her towel so hard it comes off, leaving her exposed. She gasps as Dean’s lips widen to a cocky grin. His hand comes up to touch her boob, fingers pinching her one nipple, “That’s better. Now go,” He smacks her ass before he bends down to pick up their clothes. 

  
  


*

  
  


Y/N walks out into his bedroom, it’s big but still significantly smaller than hers. The bed is smaller too. Dad has given her the biggest bedroom in the house, probably because he knew how much time she’ll be spending in there alone.

She crawls over his bed and lifts the covers to get in. Reaching out to the nightstand, she finds the remote so she switches on the TV and waits for Dean. 

He walks out of the bathroom with their clothes in his hands, his dick is still at a reasonable size, it’s not as hard as it was anymore. Not that she’s keeping track. 

“You okay there? Need some popcorn for your movie night?” He chuckles before he drops the clothes to the floor and climbs in next to her. 

Dean crawls under the covers, his hand rubs along her stomach as he nuzzles his nose at her cheek while he places little kisses on her face, “You wanna watch TV? For real?”

Y/N turns her head so Dean cups her face with one of his hands. His hands are huge and she likes that, likes how gentle he can be with them. Their noses touch and she surges forward, pecks his lips, just because she can. Because he allows her to.

“Thought it’d be less obvious if the TV is on,” She whispers against his lips and feels him spreading them into a grin. 

He pecks her twice, grins some more, “I like the way you think,” His hand caresses the side of her body and he moves them up to cup her tit in his hand. 

She arches her back and cranes her neck when Dean thumbs over her nipple. He pinches it between his fingers and kisses down her throat and she has to fucking concentrate on not making too loud of a sound. 

Suddenly, Dean lets go of her boob and moves the cover to the side before he half straddles her. His dick is harder now, it pokes at her stomach. Leaning down, he kisses her forehead, moves down to her nose until he sucks at her bottom lip, and she parts too easily for him. Of course she does. 

Dean kisses her roughly and demanding, his wide tongue fills her mouth, licking over her teeth, rubbing against her own. When he parts, she’s out of breath, her chest heaves and she’s panting. She’s also noticeably wet between her thighs. 

_ God _ , and all of it just because of one fucking kiss. 

“Do you think you can keep your voice down?” He asks as he noses at her temple. His hot breath hits her ear and it makes her shudder. 

“Uh-huh,” 

“Uh-huh?” 

“Yeah,”

Dean chuckles and sucks at her throat, “Good, use the pillows, okay?” 

She nods because she can’t bring coherent words out of her mouth as he licks a strip from her collarbone to her chest. Dean sucks in a nipple, making her arch her back and bite down on her lips so hard she tastes copper. 

He pauses to sit up a little, both hands playing with her tits as he kneads them and lets them jiggle around, “God, I love these,” He whispers before diving in again, licking and sucking at them. 

Y/N loves it too, can’t exactly lie about that because she now has one hand clasps over her mouth to stifle her moans. 

Dean works lower after a while, her tits feel raw from his mouth and teeth. She’s never had someone playing with them for so long. He kisses down her stomach and it feels like he takes his time kissing every rib before he dips his tongue into her navel. 

She spreads her legs wider to accommodate him, but she’s awfully shy about it. Adam went down on her only once and it wasn’t really a great experience either so she doesn’t exactly know what she should think about if Dean wants to go  _ there _ .

He sits up, kneels between her spread legs as he lets his hand roam her body, touches her from her chest down to her pussy and she watches him. Watches his breathing increasing, watches him watching her. 

“Look at you,” He whispers low, “So fucking beautiful,”

It’s weird, but she believes him? Like, really truly believes him. She hates it when someone compliments her, but this time it’s somehow different. Maybe it’s the way he looks at her, the way his voice is strained as if he has to hold himself back. Maybe it’s the way he touches her, the way he’s so gentle it almost hurts.

His fingers play with her navel and he goes lower, draws an invisible line from it to her clit. Dean starts to massage her there and she bucks her hips at the first touch. She’s so sensitive. He chuckles lightly before using two hands to rub soft circles on her clit. 

He plays around her entrance, groans a little upon feeling how wet she is. 

“I gotta have a taste,” He simply says and grabs at her legs, pushing and spreading them with both his hands on the back of her knees. He kneels so low that his face is now just inches from her core, his warm breath fans over her wetness, and goosebumps creep up her spine.

When he takes that first lick, she almost loses it. Her hands are balled into fists and she bites on one of them to keep her from squealing out loudly. Dean’s tongue is massive. It’s wide and warm and wet and, oh so fucking good.

“Oh god,” She moans out, bites on that fucking fist again because Dean shushes her from down there. 

He lays himself between her thighs now to have better access and one of her hands immediately goes to his head, fists her fingers into his hair. God, it feels so fucking great, she never knew that it could feel so good. 

Dean makes slurping sounds and she’s afraid that someone could hear it. Mindlessly, she grabs at the remote, increases the sound a little. She’s surprised that she can still think that far ahead.

She hears him chuckle against her cunt, tongue still lapping at her with no mercy.  _ Holy shit _ , his tongue is really big because he’s basically fucking her with it and it’s going in deep.

He eats her out like he really and truly enjoys it, which again, blows her mind. How? Why? Dean is determined because he’s not letting go, not even when her legs start to shake around him. She feels her toes curling, feels her orgasm pool around her clit. With another flick of his tongue, she comes, gushes all over his face, but Dean doesn’t seem to be bothered by her juices that start to run out freely, unlike her. 

She knows that she gets awfully wet, especially when she comes, and has spent hours talking with Ellen, their housekeeper about it because Ellen always finds the wet spots on her bedsheet. 

Oh god, she hopes Ellen doesn’t check the bedsheets of the men? But again, Ellen was never the one who talked. Especially not when Y/N employs Ellen’s daughter on an exceptional good pay.

Dean’s still lapping away when she comes back from her daze. She jerks her hips a little because she just got more sensitive. He smiles up at her, one hand comes up to cup her tit, thumb playing with her nipple as she kisses her clit lazily.

“Fuck,” She mouths breathlessly, clasping both her hands over her face. 

He gives her clit a last kiss before he comes up, hovers above her. His dick is hard as it prods against her stomach, leaving something wet on her skin. When she removes her hands, Dean’s smiling at her, “Adam ever went down on you, baby?”

She shakes her head as she cups his face, his cheeks are wet, his nose still glistens with her release, “Well, once, but not like that, this was so good, oh my god,”

Dean chuckles before he kisses her, she can taste herself on the tip of his tongue, which, to her surprise, isn’t so bad.

“You have to get used to it,” He says and pecks her lips, “You’re fucking delicious. I could eat you out for fucking hours.”

“No, don’t,”

“No?” 

There’s a little frown on his forehead and she brushes at the crease with her thumb while she smiles, “No, I want you to fuck me, Dean.”

“Yeah, about that,” He mumbles and looks away from her.

“What?” It’s her turn to frown and there’s a pout on her lips that he quickly kisses away. 

“I can’t,” He says and adds with a sigh, “I don’t have any condoms.”

“Oh,”

“Yeah,”

“It’s okay,” She grins, her fingers brushing over his still wet scruff.

“What?”

“Yeah, it’s okay,” 

“Baby, you don’t have to—”

“—I want to,” Y/N chuckles, “I’m old enough to make my own decisions.”

Dean licks his lips, and there’s the conflicted gaze again. 

She cups his face harder, making him stare right into her eyes, “Dean, hey, it’s okay.”

“‘K,” He nods and kisses her, “‘K,” He nods again when he makes his way down to kneel between her thighs. 

He grabs the base of his shaft and threads the head through her slick. She’s slippery wet, can feel it on how his dick glides through it without any problem. 

Dean’s breathing hard, his gaze is fixed on the place where their body meet. He’s mumbling something under his breath, and she can’t really understand what he says but she thinks it’s awfully cute how concentrated he is. 

“Dean,” She moans. He’s torturing her deliberately, she knows. It feels so fucking good already and he’s not even inside.

He chuckles with a click of his tongue, his breathing gets heavier, more ragged, and she props herself up on her elbow to be able to watch. She watches down there, looking at how her folds parts when he threads his cock head through it. God, she’s so turned on by this.

Finally, he grips the head of his cock with his thumb and forefinger and places it just at the edge of her entrance. Dean pushes enough that his head pops in and already she has to bite on her bottom lip. 

Dean leaves the head in and leans forward, capturing her mouth with his as he bucks his hips, and she knows why he kisses her. He wants to prevent her from moaning too loud which she still does, but he greedily swallows down every sound she makes. He does the same, though. It’s just really two people moaning into each other's mouth. It shouldn’t turn her on as much as it does.

He fills her up so well, even though he moves agonizingly slow. After a couple of inches, Dean stalls his movement and breaks the kiss, his forehead is on hers, “Baby, you okay?”

She nods and cranes her neck, kisses him some more, teeth dragging at his bottom lip which makes him grin, “God, you’re just so big, I feel so full,”

“You’re awfully tight,” Dean grits his teeth as he works in another inch, “You sure Adam did it right?”

She rolls her eyes at him and he has to laugh, leans down to kiss her once more, and pushes his dick in some more. He groans into her mouth when he bottoms out and god, she can feel it hitting her cervix. 

“You’re so deep, fuck,”

As soon as she says it, he moves back and she knows it’s out of fear of hurting her. She grabs his hips and pushes him in again, “I didn’t say it was bad.”

Dean has to laugh at that, but his smile is a little strained. He’s also stilling completely, which she thinks it’s because he wants to give her time to adjust. However, when he doesn’t move after an awfully long time, she starts to worry.

“Are you okay?” She asks and Dean lets his forehead drop onto her shoulder, he kisses her neck, her throat, sucks in some skin, but he’s careful enough not to suck too long at one spot.

“Yeah,” He breathes into the crook of her neck, “I just— fuck—, you feel so good. I have to take a breather.”

She hugs him around his body, rakes her nails up his back and Dean shudders noticeably.

“Don’t do that,” 

“Why?” She chuckles, tilts her head to kiss at his temple.

He pushes himself away from her neck, kisses up her chin and claims her mouth, he sucks in her tongue, the faint trace of her still lingers on it.

Dean parts with a last tug of his teeth on her bottom lip, “If you want me to come on the spot, then be my guest.”

“Noooooo,” She pouts and Dean closes in, nibbles at her pouty lips. 

“I thought so,” He grins before he starts to move his hips, fucking into her slow and gently. His elbows are braced on either side of her head and every now and then, he would dip his head down to kiss her.

“How does it feel, baby?” He asks between thrusts, and while it hurts at first, it feels great now. 

“Good,”

“Does my cock feel good, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” She bites on her bottom lip and squints her eyes when his dick hits a particularly great spot.

“Yeah?” His hands are on the side of her head and he brushes her hair back while he kisses her cheek. Dean noses against her temple, “It feels fucking great for me too, baby. You’re so wet and tight. Your pussy feels so fucking nice.”

God, he talks so dirty. Her face flares up.

After a while of slow fucking, she feels like there’s still a need inside of her that she can’t fucking reach and she starts to whine incoherently. So much that Dean stops and asks her what’s wrong. 

“Harder,” She manages to mumble, the color rises in her cheek. She feels ashamed to admit it. 

“What’s that?”

“You can fuck me harder, Dean, I won’t break,” Y/N says it more firmly this time.

Dean growls loudly, shutting himself up by kissing her, biting down on her lip so hard she squeals right into his mouth.

“Jesus,” He hisses and pushes himself up to be able to fuck her harder. He pushes her legs back, both hands on the back of her thighs, spreading them wide.

He begins to thrust into her harder, hands grabbing at her thigh and hips to pull her in. And god, he hits all the right places.

“Is that hard enough for you, huh? Jesus Christ, look at you, wanting it harder, so fucking perfect,” Dean hisses.

And it’s weird, so weird. The TV is still on, but all she feels and hears is Dean. 

“God, yes!” She comes suddenly, is not prepared for it at all. Her eyes cross and her skin prickles as she feels a wave of orgasm overrule her body.

Then something snaps, Dean’s movement staggers and he stops thrusting, pulls his dick out of her. She watches him through her heavy-lidded eyes, sees him biting on his bottom lip so hard she sees the white of his skin. There’s a low growl and a curse that he pushes past his lips.

Y/N feels something warm on her pussy and looks down to see Dean fisting his cock. It shoots strings after strings of cum out of it.

“Goddammit, you’re killing me here,” He mumbles and groans some more. 

God, it sounds fucking sexy.

“Fuck,” Dean mutters under his breath, “Jesus, you are too much for my damn cock,” He’s chuckling now while he still fists his impressive dick, until he’s sure that he’s released every drop of it over her body. 

While she thinks that their little tryst is over, Dean pushes in again, starts to fuck her hard all over and she has to claps a hand over her mouth to drown out the sound she makes.

When she recovers she looks at him and she squirms as Dean begins to thumb at her clit.

“You can go for another round?” She asks out of breath.

Dean winks. 

Fucking  _ winks.  _

“Oh, baby, I don’t ever want to stop fucking you, to be honest, and I would go how many times it takes for me to feel you come on my cock again.” 

“Fuck—,” She drops her head on the pillow, “—if you keep doing that it’s going to happen soon,”

He chuckles darkly, “Good, because I’m so fucking close already,”

Dean thrusts hard, hitting her deep and she feels the familiar pricking sensation in her spine, “Shitshit— just like that. Dean,” She’s squirming now, “Don’t stop, don’t stop,”

He doesn’t. If anything he thrusts harder, rubs faster, “Come, baby, come for me,” 

God, her eyelids flutter and she cramps up, she can feel her pussy squeezing him as she comes for the fourth time in twenty-four fucking hours. 

“Good girl, such a good fucking girl,” Dean praises and she can’t lie that it doesn’t do things to her because her pussy reacts to it too, clenches around his cock upon hearing the praise, “Jesus, I’m gonna come again, where do you want me to come?”

Y/N’s breathing hard and throws her hands over her head in pure bliss. She manages to look at him, sees his strained face. 

“Come in me,” She says, because that’s what she wants. She wants to feel him deep inside.

“You sure?” He hisses, his face slowly contorts into something painful.

“Yes, trust me, it’s okay,”

“Fuck—,” Dean has reached the end of his patience, thrust forward one last time, and lays his body on top of hers as he buries his face in the crook of her neck. She wraps her arms around his body, feels his soft skin against the palms of her hands.

She feels him groaning, feels his hot breathing next to her ear and after a couple of quick breaths, he begins to kiss her shoulder, sprays kisses up her neck and throat, kisses her cheek, her nose until he reaches her lips. He kisses her, long and hard, chuckles against her lips.

After a while of listening to the TV with both of them in perfect silence, Dean lifts his head and pushes himself off her, the sticky mess making a squelching sound. She lets out a little whine when he slips his soft cock out.

“I’ll be back,” He says and makes his way into the bathroom.

She’s almost dozing off when he returns with a washcloth and begins to rub at her skin from her tummy downwards. He cleans her between her legs and it’s a weird feeling but she lets him, because she thinks that it’s something he really needs to do. Something he set his mind out to.

When Dean finishes cleaning her off, she notices a splatter of cum on her left boob so she threads her index finger through it, scooping it up. 

He lets out a low growl when he watches her licking his cum off her finger and she grins at him. 

“Don’t do that,” 

“Do what?”

Dean’s already out of the bed and walks back into the bathroom to wash his cum off his own body, he turns around once more to answer her question, “ _ That _ , it makes me want to fuck you all over again,” He sighs and rolls his eyes when she grins at him some more. 

He really cares and somehow it baffles her. Adam would turn around and fall asleep. But not Dean. Dean cleans her, Dean takes fucking care of her. Dean makes sure that she’s okay. She feels safe. The safest she felt since her mother passed away.

When he returns again, he hands her a shirt. It’s not the one she came to his room with. It’s older, grey, and there’s a logo on it.  _ LED ZEPPELIN _ is written in faded letters and there’s some kind of an angel on it. 

She looks at the shirt and then to Dean.

“Wear it,” He says simply and lifts the cover to get underneath it with her. 

“Why aren’t you wearing anything and I have to wear a shirt?” She’s asking out of curiosity, but pulls the shirt over her head anyway, noticing as the fabric slips down her face that the shirt smells like him.

Dean doesn’t really answer, he only waits for her to settle next to him. His arms are spread and he beckons her in. Of course she goes in willingly, how can she not?

He pulls the cover over both of them and pulls her into his arms, so her head is on his shoulder. He kisses her temple, and she curls against him. 

It’s easy, she thinks. It’s exactly what she needs. 

Y/N’s slowly drifting off as she listens to Dean’s steady heartbeat. She feels him moving her so her head is laying on the pillow, feels the mattress dip beside her as he tilts his body, feels his hand coming up to stroke the back of her hair, feels his fingertips brushing over the features on her face. Featherlight touches over her brows, her nose, her lips, over and over again.


	9. Chapter.08

Dean’s in the bathroom, dressed and ready for the day ahead of him, when he hears furious banging against his bedroom door.

“Be right there!” He shouts out with his mouth still full of toothpaste. Dean spits it out and rinses the brush. 

He already took a shower this morning, as he needed it to wake him up. Maybe he also needed it to calm himself down because he was so goddamn hard and there was no Y/N next to him. His cock was aching for the intimacy they shared last night, but he thinks that his heart ached more for the closeness, he just doesn’t really want to admit it. Can’t possibly admit it just yet because he’s a stubborn idiot.

“We’re leaving in ten!” The voice says and Dean knows that it belongs to Ed. Benny had most likely sent him to get Dean. It’s probably not because Benny wants Dean to tag along again, but more because Azazel wants it that way. They’re all not really happy about him being nosy in their operation at all, but Dean can’t really fucking care about that.

And yeah, he wants to be there this morning because he has a fucking blood bath to prevent. He doesn’t even want to think about what would happen if the dude didn’t have the money like he promised he would. 

Dean rinses his hands under the warm water and turns the faucet to cool before splashing some cold water onto this face and dries himself off with a washcloth, “I’ll be down in ten.” He calls out and flips his wrists to check his watch. It’s 6.37 AM. It’s way too early for his taste and he’s still so tired.

Last night was fucking amazing, there’s no doubt about it, but Dean has maybe slept two hours, tops. He’s even more grumpy when he doesn’t get his four hours of shuteye and there’s a pounding in the back of his head. He has to be careful that it won’t grow into a full-blown headache.

The lack of sleep is really his own fault, though. Dean really has no one else but himself to blame. 

Last night, he waited until she fell asleep. Then, waited some more to make sure that she was in a deep sleep before he scooped her up to carry her over to her own bedroom. He had to do it because there wouldn’t have been a good way to spin a story of how she would wander from his room into hers in the morning when everyone’s up and awake. He’s sure someone would have seen her if he would have let her stay and it pained him that he had to do it, it really did.

God knows how much he wanted to let her stay beside him. How much he didn’t want her to leave his bed at all, but this whole thing is fucked up enough as it is, he doesn’t need to pour gasoline on a goddamn fire. 

This whole thing is fucking stupid and risky—

—and yet, he knows in his heart that he can’t possibly walk away from it. From _her_.

Dean braces his hands on the sink and drops his head. He’s smirking as memories from last night flashes before his eyes. He came fucking twice! Within fucking minutes! It had never happened before and he wasn’t lying when he told her that never wanted to stop fucking her. How could he? It felt super awesome being inside of her wet heat. And the way she came on his dick? _Jesus_ , he’s getting hard again just thinking about it. He’d like to experience it again sometime, would really fucking love to.

The fucking was awesome, he’s established that. But the thing after was also super great? Like, Dean didn’t account for that, if he’s honest. 

The way she laid in his arms, the way she curled up against him, the way she fell asleep. It was great and Dean felt a calmness in his heart he never experienced before. He couldn’t stop himself from touching her. Couldn’t possibly stop, no matter how much he would have wanted to. No, there was no stopping because he wanted to memorize every feature of her face, wanted to memorize the bumps and creases of her skin with the tip of his fingers. 

Carrying her over to her room was hard for him to do because he had to make sure that she didn’t wake up while at the same time making sure that nobody heard him walking around. He even wore fucking socks so as not to make too loud of a sound. 

He laid her into her bed and pulled the cover over her, tucking her in gently, before he kissed her lips one last time, lingered a little longer than he first wanted. It was just so hard to part. 

Dean shakes his head to clear out the pictures of her swimming around in his mind and clears his throat after, to get the bittersweet taste out of his mouth, before he pushes himself away from the sink and makes his way out of the bathroom. 

Her panties and the shirt she came into his room with are still on the floor. Dean picks it up and stuffs them deep into the hamper, making sure that nobody will find them. He doesn’t think that anyone would search in there anyway. 

She didn’t ask any questions last night about why Dean handed her his shirt instead of hers. It was a spur of the moment decision for him. It was just.. when he came out of the bathroom and looked at her shirt, he felt the sudden urge to give her one of his. There was a sudden possessiveness that crept up his spine. Dean can’t really explain it himself, to be honest. He smirked when she pulled it over her head, thought that she looked fucking cute in his shirt, but he tried to not be too obvious about the joy he felt.

Walking over to the door, Dean turns around again to take a last look to see if he left anything behind that could bust him — bust his ass for the things he’s already doing and of course bust him for fucking her. When he’s satisfied that there are no traces, he leaves the room and closes the door. He doesn’t lock it, fears that it would raise suspicion if he does. 

Dean walks along the landing, has to pass her door on his way down the stairs, and he almost stalls, almost knocks on her fucking door. Almost. He catches himself on time, reminds himself that he’s running late as it is. Besides, it’s not even 7 AM. She’s most likely still sound asleep. He hopes she is. He also hopes that she’s not too sore.

She did ask him to fuck her harder. 

Dean chuckles at the memory, gets flustered too. His ears are burning. He hopes that they aren’t too red because it’s hard to conceal.

_Jesus, this fucking girl._

He shakes his head as he makes his way down the stairs and suddenly, there’s another thought popping into his mind. There’s still an issue he has to talk to her about. Wanted to actually talk last night, but when he saw how exhausted she was, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Dean makes a mental note to bring it up as soon as he would meet her. He hopes it’s going to be today.

  
  


*

  
  


Dean’s the last one to arrive at the restaurant. Benny and his boys are already inside because even though Dean said he’ll be down in ten, the fucking gang had already left. So much for taking him along. 

To say that the incident is making him even more grumpy is an understatement.

He barges into the door to find the restaurant owner strapped to a chair yet again. The man’s sobbing uncontrollably, he is gagged with a tie. The man’s wife is already laying on the ground, a bullet wound through her chest and the middle of her head, which seems a bit of an overkill. It happened just a moment ago because he can see that the blood has only started to seep from under her body.

Dean takes it that they didn’t manage to get the money.

The kids are each strapped to a chair, both of them squirming and crying, both of them have ties around their mouths, too. 

And that, pisses Dean off to no end.

“What the fuck is going on?” Dean roars it out so loud that the other men are flinching, “Who the fuck did this?” He gestures wildly at the dead woman on the ground.

Glancing at the men, Dean notices quickly who fired the shots because Benny’s the only guy who has a fucking gun in his hand. 

Dean rushes over to Benny, presses up close in an act of dominance, their faces only inches apart. 

Benny snorts, “Who the fuck are you to tell me how to fucking do my work?”

Oh, Dean’s angry, alright. He knows everything about how they fucking operate. Bobby made sure to tell him details and _this_ never came up. They don’t shoot women. They don’t fucking kill children. 

“I don’t fucking care, Benny, you don’t fucking bite off a hand that fucking feeds you!” He spits out his words into Benny’s face. 

The other man snorts some more, “He doesn’t have the fucking money!”

Dean turns away and paces around, still shaking his head. At last, he turns to face Benny again, but from a safe distance, “Then fucking shoot him and not her!”

“We just want to scare him,” Ed chimes in and gets shot down by Dean’s menacing glare. The man quickly shuts his mouth. 

“Well, he _is_ scared,” Dean says. His voice is a little calmer now. He had noticed the wet pants around the man’s crotch, “Congratulations! Mission accomplished. I hope you’re fucking proud! And what now?”

“We kill off the boy next,” Benny says drily and the dad whimpers while the boy screams. 

“And then?” Dean asks, because he can’t wrap his head around it. It’s not what the _family_ stands for. Not at all.

“Then the dad.” Ed shrugs as if it’s no fucking big deal.

“And the girl?” Dean asks, and he fucking knows that he shouldn’t be discussing any of it in front of the victims, but that’s just how it is, and there’s no way for him to talk to his men in private. 

Benny smirks, “We have connections and I’m personally thinking about expanding the family business, branching out, you know.”

Oh, Dean knows. Dean knows exactly what Benny’s talking about, and he’s not happy about it. 

“Does Azazel know?” 

“Not yet,” Benny shrugs, “But I’ll have a meeting later, I’ll bring up the new business idea.” 

Dean looks from Benny to the kids and back at the guy, “I’m taking them with me—”

“—You will do no such thing!” 

Benny cuts Dean off before Dean could even finish his sentence. The man’s also in Dean’s hair, inches so close and pushes at his chest, “You let us do our fucking job and you do yours!”

There’s a lot of staring each other down, a lot of quivering lips and steely gazes. Dean sighs before he resigns. Not because he _wants_ to, but because he knows that he _has_ to. He would overstep his duties, and he would make himself suspicious. More than he already is in the men’s eyes. 

So Dean does what’s expected of him. He takes a step back and walks out of the room without another word. 

  
  
  


____________________________________________________

  
  
  


Y/N wakes to the sound of soft knocking at her door. She blinks the sleep away before her eyes scan her surroundings. It takes her some time to realize where she is. 

She’s back in her own room.

Disappointment clouds her face and she curls up on her side. Her eyes stay open as she stares at the door where someone knocks again.

“What is it?” She calls out grumpily. Today’s not a good day, she can already feel it. 

“Madam,” The maid says, “It’s past 1 PM, would you like your lunch?”

What? Past 1 PM? How? She never gets up this late. Has probably never slept past 10 AM in her whole life.

“No, thank you.” She says, “I’ll go into work once I get up.” 

“Alright, Madam. Just ring me if you need me.” 

“Thanks.”

Y/N sits up in her bed, pulls the blanket aside, and notices that she’s still in Dean’s shirt. And then it dawns on her. That is why he wanted her to wear something for bed, wasn’t it? So that he could carry her back into her own room. 

Bringing the shirt to her face, she sniffs at it. Couldn’t really do it last night when Dean was next to her. She smells him. Smells his cologne, his soap, his musk. He probably slept in it the night before, because it doesn’t smell like it has been washed in a while. And strangely, she doesn’t care. It smells heavenly. 

The scent of the shirt brings her back to last night and her mind starts to spin. God, they really had sex. Dean’s a great lover, he made her come more than she had with any other man. Even on his dick alone, which never happened. It was totally different from Adam. Adam didn’t really make a big effort if she had to compare, but also she doesn’t know what’s the norm? Was Dean just over-attentive or is that standard? 

_Jesus_ , she even forgot to go pee afterward and that’s what she should have done, right? Ellen told her so many times already that she should go pee after having sex so as not to contract UTI. She completely forgot in her blissed-out state. 

Dean did that to her. She was incapable of forming one coherent word afterward. 

Y/N liked everything about last night. Like how he took care of her, liked how he fucked her. But most of all, she liked how he took her in his arms afterward, how his hands brushed over her face, how the gestures lulled her to sleep.

Getting up, she peels the shirt from her body and stows it away underneath her pillow. Just in case. And she wants to wear it again tonight just because she can. It’s hers now, she won’t give it back no matter how much Dean would want it returned to him. 

On her way to the bathroom, she feels something warm running out of her vagina and she hurries to the bathroom, doesn’t necessarily wanting it to drip on the carpet because she would have a hard time explaining it to Ellen. That woman has bat ears and eagle eyes, she would know, Y/N’s so sure of that.

Inside of the shower, she inspects the wetness that runs down her thighs and it keeps running out. God, just how much did Dean come inside of her? Because it’s a lot and it was his second time too, having spilled the first load onto her stomach and pussy. 

She turns on the shower, washes herself down there with water before soaping herself up. Her hand rubs at her clit and it somehow hurts a little because it’s very sensitive. It doesn’t help that she actually wants to rub there some more because of the tingly sensation she feels inside of her guts. Dean has really left a lasting impression on her, that much is clear. 

After the shower and with no release because it just hurt too much, she walks out of the bathroom frustrated and grumpy. It also doesn’t lift her mood when she sees Ellen in her room. The woman has a key to every door in the house and she’s not afraid to use it. 

Ellen’s in the process of stripping her bedsheets and she already notices the edge of Dean’s shirt hanging out from the laundry basket.

“No!” She shouts and runs to the basket, fishing the shirt out, “I want to wear it again tonight.” She says, but then she realizes that she maybe shouldn’t have said it, “I mean, I just pulled it out of the closet and… uh, it’s still good to wear. It doesn’t need to be washed yet.” She stammers, trying to somehow make sense. 

The woman looks at Y/N with a frown on her face, “Hun, since when do you care if I wash a shirt you’ve only worn once?”

“Uh, I don’t know? Just— I know that I want to wear it again, okay?” She clutches at the fabric and pulls it out of the basket, proceeds to walk with it to her walk-in closet but Ellen was having none of it. 

The woman tugs her back by her arm, “Y/N, show me.” 

“Ellen!”

“Do I have to use force on you? Because I’d rather not.”

God, she hates how Ellen goes all mom on her. The woman’s been here since before Y/N was born and when her mother died, she came closest to being a mother figure to Y/N while she also took care of her own child. Ellen knows her better than she knows herself, even knew about Adam, but Ellen didn’t tell. She wonders if she can tell Ellen about Dean? If she should tell? No, that’s probably not a good idea since Dean doesn’t want anyone to know.

“Y/N, I’m asking nicely.” Ellen holds out a hand, waiting for her to hand over the garment. 

She sighs and rolls her eyes, “Fine!”

Ellen doesn’t even wait for her to lay the shirt into her awaiting palm, instead, she tears it from Y/N’s grip. 

The woman holds it up, frowning, “That’s not your shirt.”

“How do you know?”

“I know every item in your wardrobe, Y/N, and this shirt isn’t yours,” Ellen says and puts the shirt to her nose to sniff at it. Y/N cringes, “Yep, definitely a man’s shirt. What happened?”

“Nothing?”

“Well, I hope that nothing knows what he’s done and that he’s in a lot of trouble if the King finds out.”

“I told him—” Y/N says meekly, “—about Adam.”

“Good, boy needs to know.” Ellen hands the shirt back to her, “Please don’t tell me it’s one of his.”

She doesn’t say anything but also, she doesn’t meet Ellen’s questioning eyes, avoiding them at all costs.

“Dear God, honey! No!” Ellen sighs loudly, “This is not going to end well, and you know it!”

“It’s different!” She shouts, “ _He’s_ different!”

“Yeah, tell that to your father when he has the boys balls in his hand ready to cut them off, will ya?”

Oh god, the image of it makes her skin crawl. Ellen is right. Of course the woman’s right, and Y/N hates that she is.

“He doesn’t need to know,” Y/N mumbles softly. 

Ellen gestures with her hands and there’s obvious irritation on her face as she rubs a hand over her forehead, “Look, I’m on your side, okay? Just please be careful, and I’m going to get you new pills, I’ll drop them off and hide them in your room in the evening, okay?”

Y/N’s pout turns into a big wide grin as she throws her arms around Ellen’s neck and sprays kisses on her cheek, “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ellen says, “I love you, okay? I just want you to be safe.”

“I know.”

  
  
  


____________________________________________________

  
  
  


Dean’s sitting at the counter of a roadside diner a couple of hours out of the city. To be honest, he didn’t know where to go at first, just got into his car and thought about leaving it all behind. He knows that he can if he really wants to, knows that he’s allowed if he has a good reason. 

While he drove, he thought about the reasons, but he came up empty-handed. Apparently, corruption of his own moral compass isn’t good enough of a reason, and he knows that too. It’s not going to be a reason for them to accept it because he’s been in his game long enough. 

But he has decided something for himself on his way out here. After this is all over, he’s going to leave the Bureau. He’s going to leave it all behind, get in his car, and drive. He has the feeling that he’s getting too old for all this bullshit. When he first started, he really had the impression that he could make a difference, that he could help make the world a little safer, but the reality caught up to him pretty fast, and now, after doing what he does for a decade, he knows that the world doesn’t change. When he catches a bad guy, there are at least five more who are going to take that guy’s place. When he closes a case, there are going to be ten more coming up. It’s a vicious circle that keeps on spinning.

He’s here now, isn’t he? He’s going to get this over with and Dean started to think about reasons for him not to leave, and there are some. There’s also a chump holding him back by clawing into his skin. That chump comes in the form of a stunning girl with a beautiful smile. That’s when Dean realizes that he doesn’t have a good enough reason to leave, but has a better reason to stay.

It’s afternoon and the diner is more than half empty. He’s nursing his coffee that tastes more like water with a sprinkle of coffee flavor as he waits. 

He knows it’s fucking risky disappearing after what happened at the restaurant this morning. It’s fucking risky to just get in his car and drive away without telling anyone where he’s going, but he needed a breather and he especially needed time to sort things out in his head. 

This whole operation is fucking with his mind. Fucking with his grip on morality. He has always known what’s right and what’s wrong, and he’s worked undercover before, but it never involved innocent fucking children for god’s sake!

The bell of the diner chimes and he notices a woman coming in. She walks to the counter and sits next to him.

“You got any news?” Dean asks, but he doesn’t look at the women. Instead, he stares down at his coffee, signaling for the waitress to pour him some more. 

“Not much.” His supervisor says, “You know we shouldn’t meet like this, right?”

Dean snorts, “We shouldn’t be doing a lot of things, Naomi. Yet, here we are,”

The woman ignores him.

“We found out that Benny is in contact with Marv,” Naomi says, while she signals for the waitress to bring her a cup as well. 

Dean debates on telling her that the coffee tastes like shit, but he decides against it. It’s the little thing he finds joy in nowadays. Instead, he tries not to frown too much as he asks, “Marv?”

“Marv Armstrong. He’s big in the human trafficking business.”

“Oh no,” Dean rubs at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, bringing it together in the middle to pinch at the bridge of his nose. He didn’t sleep nearly enough for such fucking bullshit.

Naomi thanks the waitress and takes a sip from her cup, spitting it right out with a disgusted expression on her face, and Dean has to hold himself together so as not to laugh out loud. 

The woman soon regains her composure, even before Dean’s done with laughing, “Try to be there when Benny meets Azazel. We want to know more about it.”

 _Fucking Christ_ , first they have a mole in the fucking family, and now this? Dean didn’t fucking sign up for fuckery, did he? 

He sighs and gets up from the stool before he fishes out a five-dollar bill from his jacket pocket, “I’ll try.”

“You want to leave so much for a bad coffee?” Naomi grits her teeth but doesn’t look at him.

Leaning down a little, he places the bill on the counter, “Hey, everyone needs money to get by, doesn’t matter how bad the coffee is.”

Dean walks out without another word and hurries to his car. He knows he has to be there for the meeting, but he has to do something else first.

  
  
  
  


____________________________________________________

  
  
  
  


Y/N spends some time working in the restaurant after lunch. After she ushers Ellen out of her room, she gets dressed and puts some makeup on her face in order to hide the dark circles around her eyes. She arrived at the shop hangry, so Garth had made her a delicious burger and fries because he somehow knew that she needed it, and it really did help lift her mood a little.

Garth always knows what she needs and she loves him for it, is thankful that he enjoys working in her restaurant. He never complains about anything and always smiles. Sometimes, Garth is indeed the light of the restaurant and it makes her workdays so much more bearable.

After the meal, she checks in on her other employees to see if they have trouble managing the whole place without her being in as much as before, but apparently, everything seems to be going fine which actually disappoints her a little because it shows that she’s really not needed at all. 

Her dad’s right about it, and she hates that he is.

When she’s about to go to the back and continue with her inventory, the bell chimes and her dad walks in with some of his entourage. He walks straight to the counter and doesn’t sit down in his booth like he normally does. She senses that something must be going on.

“Are you hungry, dad?” Y/N asks and looks back at Garth who’s tossing some fries into the oil, “Garth’s making a new batch of fries.” 

“No, I already ate,” Her father says, “Is Dean in?” 

Well, should he be? She doesn’t know, because she hasn’t heard from him since last night. Her cheeks burn up at the memories.

“I’ve not been here long enough to know.” She says simply. Maybe because it’s the truth and maybe, because she does want to sound like she cares. 

_God,_ she does care, though. Where is Dean?

“We’re going to be down for the rest of the day. Send him down when he drops by,” Her dad says and doesn’t even wait for her answer. Instead, he strolls to the back door, his entourage following him. 

“Benny is in but I haven’t seen Dean,” Garth chimes in from the back, but she doubts that her dad registered it. It doesn’t matter to her dad what Garth has to say anyway. 

Garth’s still smiling and it almost breaks her heart. She watches as Garth just shrugs and continues to whistle a tune while he takes out the fries as if he doesn’t really care if people don’t like him. He’s just being himself and that’s what she admires him for. She wished she could be a little more like Garth.

“Jo, you got this? I’ll be in the back,” she says, as Jo walks back to the counter with an empty tray after having served customers. 

“Sure thing,” the girl smiles at her.

Y/N nods with a smile before walking to the back thinking that she’ll definitely miss working in here.

  
  


*

  
  


About a half-hour into boring inventory, she hears the doorknob being turned. She has stopped listening to music while she’s in here, it just doesn’t seem safe when she can’t hear her surroundings. Her hand immediately goes to her gun that’s laying on the shelf next to her clipboard, as a precaution.

“Leave it, it’s me.” 

Y/N doesn’t have to turn around to know who it is. She’d recognize the hushed whisper anywhere. She’d recognize the smooth bass of the voice, even if her eyes were closed. It’s crazy how the sound of someone’s voice can jump-start her heart in a flash.

She doesn’t turn around, doesn’t know if she’d be able to look him in the eye, because she’s still a little salty that she didn’t wake up next to him, even though she knows that it’s irrational to be salty about it.

It’s absolutely stupid, she knows. 

He did the right thing, because how should she explain if she would have gotten caught going out of Dean’s room in the morning wearing only a shirt and panties? There’d be no way to talk herself out of it and it would land Dean in so much trouble. It’s just… her brain is incapable of thinking rationally at the moment, and she’s as far away from being reasonable at this very moment as she can be. It’s probably the princess-effect. 

“Dad’s waiting for you.” She says simply, trying to occupy herself as she takes her clipboard and writes something on it. She doesn’t even know what to write, draws stupid circles, and makes up numbers to write on it, hoping he doesn’t see the doodles. 

Still with her back to him, she feels him coming closer, feels the broad of him standing right behind her. The heat of his body radiates over to hers. And she smells him too. Smells the soap on his skin, the cologne on his shirt. 

_God_ , it clouds her mind.

Dean places a hand on her shoulder, the other hand strokes down her back until it weaves around her waist, fingers span wide on her stomach. He pulls her closer, molding her back to his firm chest, and places a kiss on her neck. She feels the roughness of his scruff, which sends shivers up her spine.

“Have I upset you?” He whispers into her skin. 

She tilts her head a little and Dean kisses her temple, leaves his lips there as the grip around her waist tightens. 

“Just disappointed that I woke up in my own bed.” She mumbles.

Moments pass before she hears him chuckle next to her ear. 

“I’m sorry,” He says and kisses her once more on her cheek. 

He breathes out after, and she smells coffee on his breath, wonders where he got one. Wonders if he had one here. She places the clipboard on the shelf, turning around in his grip to meet his eyes for the first time, noticing when she sees him that he looks tired. There’s worry on his face also. 

Y/N hooks her arms in the back of his neck and Dean leans down, presses his forehead on hers, “I got something for you,” He says and smirks before he pecks her lips. 

Dean’s hand leaves her waist, goes to his jacket pocket and she feels something hard poking at her from in between them. It’s a little box and she leans back to be able to take a look at it. She takes it in her hand, examines it.

_Plan B_

_One Step_

The words read boldly on the box, and she looks up at Dean with a frown etched between her eyebrows. 

He chuckles and lifts his thumb to rub at the crease, “I shouldn’t have, uh, you know, come inside of you. I’m sorry about that, but you said things that made me forget my own damn name.” 

“I don’t need it,” She whispers, holding the box to him and wants him to take it back. 

This time, it’s his turn to frown. There’s clearly irritation on his face which she has to laugh at. 

“Why?” He asks, but he doesn’t take the box back. 

“I’m taking the pill, Dean. It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

Dean exhales loudly. His hot breath fans over her face. He takes a step back and paces around, before he threads a hand through his hair, “Jesus,” He groans in relief, “It was nagging at me the whole day! Fuck!” 

Y/N laughs when she watches him pace around some more and there it was, the realization that dawns on him, the tension that ebbs out of his body. Suddenly, Dean’s on her, wrapping his hands around her and lifts her up, one hand around her waist and one at the base of her neck as he draws her in for a kiss. It’s soft and gentle, tongue only teasing at her teeth, but when she opens up her mouth, he sucks in her tongue. 

_God_ , it feels incredible. 

He chuckles when he parts and lets her down, but she’s still lost in the moment, still chases his lips with her mouth, her eyes still closed. His chuckle grows into a laugh and he pecks her nose, making it wet. 

“Baby, your dad wants to see me,” Dean whispers, pecking her lips once more and she groans out in frustration. His big hands go further down, cups her ass in his palms, and give it a squeeze, “I’ll see you, okay?” 

“‘K,” She nods, and licks her lips as he places one more kiss on her forehead. 

Dean leaves to walk to the door.

“What’s with that?” She still has the Plan B box in her hand and waves it around. 

“Keep it,”

“What?”

“Well, I can’t possibly turn up with Plan B in my jacket.” 

He’s not wrong, but still. Now she needs to walk around with it in her purse so she rolls her eyes, making him chuckle as he opens the door to the hallway.

Dean takes a last look back at her, lips curving up, creases deepening around his eyes, “You know, you’re really the only thing that keeps me going. I don’t think I would still be doing the shit I’m doing if you weren’t in it.” 

Y/N feels the color rising in her cheeks and Dean closes the door with a last nod of his head.


	10. Chapter.09

Well, it was no word of a fucking lie when Dean told her that, given how close he was to quitting today. 

_ Winchesters don’t quit _ , his father used to say. 

Dean hates the old man. Hates that his father drilled it into Dean’s head. Dean’s never quit anything in his life. Ever.

He takes a couple of deep breaths when he reaches the heavy door to their underground room and barges in without knocking. 

The room is full of men dressed in black, but they didn’t even notice him coming in as they are engaged in a heated discussion.

Good for Dean, because he walked right into the lion’s den with a fucking semi-hard dick and if someone looked his way, he’s sure that they would have no problem pointing it out to humiliate him. 

“Shut your mouth!” Azazel growls at Benny and the other man gasps like a fish, “We do not fucking expand! We do not fucking dip our toes into unknown territory, you understand?”

“Look at the opportunities Azazel!” Benny states. 

Azazel snorts, “Opportunities my ass. We are good the way we are. You don’t fucking play with fire when you have no knowledge of how to put them out, Benny.” He looks around the room and notices Dean. Dean nods towards his boss. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Azazel says, “Help me tell Benny how bad of an idea it is to go into human trafficking.” 

Dean nods his agreement, “The worst idea, Benny.” 

He’s fucking thankful Azazel has his back, to be honest. Dean wouldn’t have known how convincing he would be in talking Azazel out of something the King sets his mind to.

“See?” Azazel looks at Benny and gestures wildly with his hands, “My consigliere agrees.”

Benny sends Dean a glare that probably should intimidate him, but it really doesn’t. He knows those glares, it’s a warning. Something that says _ ‘Watch your back’. _

Dean knows that he has to have more arguments that will put Azazel off, something that will put everyone in this room off so they won’t be following the idea any longer. 

He clears his throat before he speaks, “Human trafficking is tracked closely state-wide. They will be on your case before you even know it, Benny. And when they catch you there, with your hands in the cookie jar, it blows up your whole fucking organization.” He says calmly. 

The boss nods in Dean’s direction before he looks back at his underboss, “Benny, I’m not punishing you for what you’ve done to the poor woman.”

Benny frowns, “How did you—”

“—Do you think I’m a fucking idiot? I have eyes and ears everywhere!” Azazel shouts, “When I see such behavior again, you’ll get what you deserve.”

Dean can see Benny’s lips quiver, can see the man's nostrils flaring. 

“Now go. I can’t even look at you right now,” Azazel mutters under his breath as he starts to grunt and clutches at his stomach. 

Benny pushes past him and pounces against Dean’s shoulder. Dean ignores the man and instead, he walks over to where Azazel is now sitting down. 

“You okay?” Dean asks, bending down a little and laying a hand on Azazel’s shoulder. The man looks up at Dean with a pained expression. 

“Yeah, just,” Azazel takes a deep breath, “Stomach cramps.” 

“Okay,” Dean nods, “Good,” 

Of course it’s not fucking  _ good _ . Dean’s worried, alright? Even though he knows full well that he shouldn’t be, knows full well that he shouldn’t care if Azazel drops dead right in front of him.

Before Dean steps away, Azazel places a hand on Dean’s arm, “You did good in wanting to stop Benny.”

Dean’s eyes widen at the praise and he chuckles darkly, “Yeah, well, I couldn’t stop him.” 

“Oh, he wouldn’t have let you anyway. But you did well in standing up for what we are. I want you to be careful and help me keep him in check, okay?”

Help keep Benny in check? That’s his job too, now? He’s in denial. Dean can’t possibly take care of everything. There’s just one of him and so many of them that make his priority list seem endless. Her name is at the top of it, even if he knows that she shouldn’t even be on that fucking list. 

Dean nods anyway, because he would be damned if he wouldn’t want to try to fucking stop Benny in whatever the guy plans to do.

____________________________________________________

Little did Y/N know that after their encounter in the storage room, it would be four days until she’d see Dean again. 

After he dropped the box of Plan B and left her with a kiss that promised more, Dean went down to the basement. And after that, she didn’t know what happened because when she finished her work for the day, everyone was gone, except for Max, who was waiting in the booth her dad usually occupied, thumbing through his phone.

When Max noticed her resurfacing from the storage room, he nodded and asked if the princess was ready to go home.

Dean didn’t even get a chance to tell her, she only knew it from the text he sent her while she and Max were on their way home. It was a short one too as he didn’t give anything away, and she guessed it was because he was sitting next to her dad. It was probably risky enough for him to open the message app and type out a message to her.

> _D: Gone for a few days with your father._

She had learned later from Max that her dad only took Dean with him, of course with a couple of bodyguards. But that’s it. Just him and Dean. Somehow, it doesn’t sit right with her. 

Apparently, they needed to talk strategics and dad didn’t even take Benny with him. There had been a falling out between the King and the underboss, Max said. But when she asked more, Max closed up, knowing full well that he shouldn’t even tell her as much as he already did.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


The next couple of days went by in a blur. She did some more inventory, managed to finish it up actually, and is now truly jobless, and not to mention, bored out of her mind. Dean texted a couple of times, mostly at night, when he was alone. She looked forward to those texts, even if Dean kept them short. 

The last text came last night, and it made her heart soar. 

> _D: Will be back tomorrow. Can’t wait to see you, baby_

Baby. 

She grinned to herself, because she totally liked the sound of it.

  
  
  


*

  
  


Now she’s in her room, anticipating their return. She doesn’t want to seem desperate and wait downstairs because that would be a little over the top. And maybe, if this was different, if the thing they have wasn’t against her father’s will, she’d be waiting on the staircase in front of the mansion, she wouldn’t even care if it would look like she’s desperate because that’s what she fucking is.

Y/N’s reading a paragraph in a book and it’s actually her third time reading the exact paragraph because she can’t fucking concentrate. It’s already 2 PM, they should be home soon, shouldn’t they? 

There’s a knock at the door that makes her blood freeze and her heart thumps wildly. She quickly abandons the book, getting out of bed in a hurry and flies to open up the door, a big smile sitting bright on her face.

However, the smile falters as soon as she sees who it is. 

_Nick._

“What do you want?” She sneers. 

_God_ , she feels a headache coming on just by looking at that dude.

“Wow, I’m happy to see you too, princess,” Nick chuckles darkly.

She just rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest as she leans against the door frame to her room, “I’m not going to ask again, Nick.”

The other man has his hands in his pants pockets as he shrugs, “Your dad wants to see you.”

“They’re back?” It comes out louder than she intends, and she bites on her tongue because she’s sure that a squeal would follow if she doesn't tone her voice down.

“Yeah, about an hour ago.” Nick says simply and there’s another shrug, “Anyway, he sent me to get you. Better get on your way. You know he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

“Yeah, I’ll be right there.” She closes the door in Nick’s face, doesn’t even care if he isn’t done yet. She doesn’t have the patience to listen to anything Nick has to say to her anyway. 

Skipping into the bathroom, Y/N checks her reflection in the mirror, maybe Dean’s also in Dad’s office? She wants to at least look presentable, although she’s sure that he doesn’t mind. Dean’s seen her in her most unflattering state already anyway. Which is really embarrassing, when she thinks about it. 

About two minutes later and a last check in the mirror, she makes her way down to her dad’s office. Her heart starts to race as she gets closer. When she’s right in front of it, she knocks softly and waits. When there’s no answer, she knocks again but this time, she goes right in. 

_God_ , she can hear her own heartbeat drumming in her ear from the excitement.

Her eyes scan hopefully around the room at first, but soon her smirk makes way to a frown. Her dad’s alone. She tries not to look too disappointed as she steps in further. He’s sitting at his desk, going through some papers that she thinks has piled up since he’s been gone. 

“Hey Dad,” She says, smiles because yeah, in a way, she’s actually happy to see him, “How was your trip?”

He’s too lost in his thoughts, only lifting his head briefly and it takes him a couple more seconds to be able to tear his eyes from the paperwork, “Huh, yeah, it was good, we made progress.”

Y/N wants to ask more, wants to ask what he means by _progress_. She really has the urge to know more, but she also knows that it’s not her place. 

Her father sighs, and maybe it’s just the lighting or the stress from working, but he looks visibly older. Like he’s aged a decade in about a week. He looks thin too, a little pale in the face and just overall frail. She’s never seen her dad like this and it somehow worries her.

“You should eat more,” She says, and adds, “You look like you lost a lot of weight, Dad. Have you been taking care of yourself?”

He snorts, and ignores her, “Please, sit down.”

Doing what she’s told, she sits down in the chair across from him, “You wanted to see me?” She asks, and waits for her dad’s eyes to meet hers.

“Yeah,” He exhales, “What would you say if I gave you an insight into our business. Just the business aspects, no dirty work for you, princess.”

“Sounds good,” She nods, “I mean, that was the plan all along, no?” 

Her father agrees with a nod of his own head, “It was, but I want you more involved. I want you peaking in the relation aspects of our business, too. You’ll learn about the financial things from me.”

“Okay,” 

“And you’ll accompany Dean to his meetings because I want someone there who I can trust.” 

She frowns, “Don’t you trust Dean?”

“You know,” Her dad says, and leans back in his chair, “I really do and it’s weird because I don’t trust easily but there’s just something about that boy.”

Well, he doesn’t have to tell her. She knows exactly what he means. Dean has a certain charm to him, and he absolutely knows how to use it to his advantage. Why else would she be falling deeper and deeper for him?

Her dad goes on, “Even though I trust Dean with the relation aspects of the family, I still want you there because I just trust you more. Plus, you’re related to me by blood, which is a big advantage in our line of work.”

 _Line of work_. He says it like it’s no big deal.

“Okay?” She shrugs, because she still doesn’t trust it somehow.

“It was Dean’s idea. Last time he got shot down because he’s not family, and I’d like to avoid that in the future. I think he has a meeting later today, you can see if you can go along for that one.”

Dean’s idea? Y/N bites on her lips, tries to suppress her smirk. Suppress her stupid grin that wants to spread all over her face. Did he just say it to get her dad to agree or did it really happen, though? She doesn’t know and she’s really not sure if she wants to know. It doesn’t really matter.

Standing up, she’s about to walk to the door when her dad stops her, “Where are you going?”

“I thought you wanted me to ask Dean if I can go along?”

“No, you are going to sit down with me so I can talk to you about finances first.”

Y/N tries really hard not to roll her eyes while she sits back down.

“Take the chair, come sit beside me.”

  
  
  


*

  
  


After two hours of drilling her about the financial situation of the family, he shows her the numbers. It doesn’t look good. They are so close to slipping into debt. Surely, that can’t be right? She thought they were doing well?

“Dad, the numbers don’t look good,” Y/N whispers with concern on her face. She doesn’t know how loud she can be. What if someone hears? Her dad probably doesn’t want anyone to know about it.

Her father exhales, “Yeah, there have been questionable business ventures lately and they failed.”

Her frown doesn't ebb out, “Business ventures chosen by you?” 

“No.” He answers with a shake of his head, and she thought that he would say more, but he stays mum about it.

“Does Dean know about it? That we’re almost broke?” It blurts out of her. She doesn’t even know why she asks. Perhaps she wanted to know how much her dad really trusts him. Dean should really know about this, shouldn’t he? He’s their consigliere. He should know about their finances in order to make good deals?

“Nobody knows but you and my bookkeeper, princess.” 

“Right,” She nods and gnaws on her bottom lip.

“Don’t worry about it. I have a couple of things in mind how we can restock our bank accounts.”

She pouts and looks at him, still with that hint of concern on her face, “Will you tell me about your plan?”

“All in due time.”

She nods again.

  
  


*

  
  


By the time her dad lets her leave his office, her head’s spinning from all the numbers and account information. They are really not in a great financial position and she wonders how long they can keep up their lifestyle, how long they can keep up their facade. Not that she would mind changing things up. Not that she would mind working an honorable job for once in her life.

Maybe it’d be good? Perhaps Dad will give up this life, let some other mob organization take over and get out with her? Go live somewhere remote, somewhere where people don’t know who they are? That’s really an utopian dream, but one she wouldn’t even be appalled by.

She pauses at Dean’s office door and now, her heart’s really beating out of her chest. 

Four days. 

It’s been four fucking days.

“Come in,” Dean shouts out before she can even knock.

Perplexed, she looks around her. Is there a camera she doesn’t know about? How does he know? 

“I know it’s you, princess. Come in.”

So, she’s _princess_ now, huh?

Rolling her eyes, she turns the doorknob, opens the door just enough to peak her head in and she frowns when she notices that Dean’s not sitting at his desk. She lets her eyes scan the room and can’t spot him anywhere. 

There’s a hand coming around the ajar door. It quickly grabs at the one hand she’s left on the doorknob. The door opens wider, and she feels that hand pulling her inside with force. 

Before Y/N knows it, she’s pinned to the closed door, one of Dean’s hands on her shoulder, his other hand braces the door on the side of her head. 

“Hi,” He smiles down at her. 

It’s that easy charming crooked smile of his that gets her heart racing.

His freckles are standing out, probably got sun-kissed while they had their meetings out in the open where nobody is interested in what they are or what they’re doing. Dean smiles with his eyes, his crinkles run deep, and she melts. 

It’s like those scenes in movies where two people kiss and it makes your own heart clench. That’s how it feels for her. 

“Hey,” She smiles up at him. Her hand goes to his face and he doesn’t pull away, instead, he lets her touch him, leaning in some more and closes his eyes briefly.

Her fingers brush over long scruff, he hasn’t shaved like he used to. Dean’s facial hair is longer, it prickles under her palms. 

His hand on her shoulder inches closer to her throat and he skims his nails along her skin, goes up to her jaw and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear before he goes back to the front with it. He pushes his fingers under her chin and tilts her head upwards some more. 

Dean’s still smiling as his thumb paints along her bottom lip, “You been good?”

She snorts out a laugh, “What makes you think I wasn’t?”

He licks his lips and lowers his face to a subtle nod, “The boys behaved?” 

“Well,” She says with a grin, “Max’s my personal bodyguard now, apparently? And Nick is still a pain in my ass.”

Dean frowns a little, “He didn’t hurt you did he?”

“I’ve barely seen him,” She shakes her head.

“Good, he should know not to touch what’s mine,” Dean whispers low.

 _What’s mine_ . The word _mine_ sends shivers down her spine. It’s not the word per se, it’s _how_ he says it. With that gravelly whisper and a hard edge. It makes her scared and aroused at the same time. Her heart thumps just a tad faster. 

Is she his? Because she didn’t get the memo. Well, it’s not like she would object.

She chuckles softly, “Technically, he doesn’t know that I’m yours,” Raising an eyebrow when she finishes her sentence.

Dean’s thumb paints a line over her upper lip now, and she parts them, taking his digit between her teeth. He has to chuckle, his crinkles deepens. 

Y/N grins cockily before sealing her lips around it, sucking it in and hollows out her cheek.

Dean groans and swallows hard, closing his eyes for a second before he licks his lips and opens his mouth to speak, “He touches you again, I’ll remind him about it,” He swallows again, “Can I kiss you now? You’re killing me here.”

She sucks his thumb in some more before she places her hand around his wrist, then pulls it out with an audible lewd pop and a soft moan. Dean’s Adam's apple bobs as he swallows once more. 

“No,”

“No?” He frowns a little. 

Her hand goes to his chest and pushes him off her to walk further into the room. She turns around, sees Dean standing facing her but he’s still rooted by the door.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she balances her weight on one leg, leaving the other one standing out, “What’s that all about with bringing me to your meetings? Is it true that you got shot down because you’re not related to us by blood?”

She doesn’t really know why she asks now? God, yeah, she would love to kiss him too, it’s just— she needs some answers first.

Dean gasps and threads his hand through his hair before he starts to walk towards her, “Well, yeah?” 

Y/N narrow her eyes at him.

He sighs loudly before he rolls his eyes to the back of his head. Dean stops mid-walk and if she’s not mistaken, she can see the blush in his face. He looks awfully cute. 

“Alright, I didn’t get shot down because I’m not blood-related, it’s more because that family’s consigliere was a total jerk, and I didn’t want to meet his demands. But—” He’s right before her now, his hand rests on the back of her neck as he lowers himself, “—It’s true that it would have gone better if you would have been there.”

“So, you didn’t just tell him because you wanted time with me?”

  
  


____________________________________________________

  
  
  


_Jesus_ , the way she looks at him. It’s like she’s disappointed somehow? Is she? Because if she is, that’s ridiculously cute. She’s upset that Dean didn’t weave a thread of lies to get a little time for the two of them. And there he thought that she’d be disappointed if that was the sole fucking reason — which, let’s be real — it actually is. He just thought that she’d be pissed if she knew the truth. 

“That too,” He smirks. 

“Dean?” She looks at him now and nibbles at her own lips. 

_God_ , those lips. He was dreaming of them, was afraid that he’d whisper her name in his sleep. 

“Huh?” He swallows hard.

“Kiss me?” 

“Fucking Christ, and there I thought you’d never let me,” He chuckles in relief and bends down more to press his lips on hers. 

He sneaks his arm around her waist while he places the other one on the side of her face, thumb caressing her cheeks as he licks into her open mouth. 

He really did miss this. 

He’d missed her.

The kiss couldn’t last long, and Dean knows that. It’s a shame really, because he could go on forever. Could just kiss himself stupid on her. And he likes kissing her. Kissing for kissing’s sake and not because it can lead to more. Well, he doesn’t deny that he wants more. Of course he does, how can he not. But yeah, kissing her is something he enjoys very much.

Dean parts with a last suck to her lips and brushes away the wetness with his thumb before he takes a step back. Takes another step after, just to be fucking sure because if someone comes in and sees them tangled together, he’d find himself under a guillotine faster than he can say _it’s not what it looks like_.

“C’mon,” He says and walks over to his desk and picks up his car keys, “I wanna show you something.”

She looks at him with flustered cheeks, her chest is still heaving. He has to smirk at the cuteness.

“Wait, aren’t we going to the meeting?” 

“It’s not until late at night.” Dean shrugs, and then he second-guesses his plans, “You know what? You’re right. Go pack some clothes for the meeting and meet me in the garage?” 

  
  


____________________________________________________

  
  


It was about thirty minutes later that Y/N carried down her little suitcase, packed with clothes suitable for a family’s business meeting and wheeled it to the staircase going down to the garage. 

There, Dean’s already waiting, back leaning against the car while he’s busy typing something into his phone only to lift his head to meet her eyes when he hears the heavy door to the garage swing closed. 

He locks his screen before letting the phone slip back into the pocket of his slacks and raises an eyebrow at her with an easy smirk on his face. He chuckles and flashes her that crooked grin of his, as she wheels the small suitcase closer. 

“A suitcase?”

She shrugs, “I’m a princess,” 

There’s another soft chuckle before he takes it to the back and places it into the trunk of his car.   
  


*

  
  


Dean drives towards the city and she recognizes familiar buildings. High rises upon skyscrapers. They drive over a bridge, and she finds herself surrounded by unfamiliar buildings. She hasn’t been here before. Dad never let her step a foot into another territory. 

Y/N never asked where Dean is taking her. It’s like she feels that she doesn’t have to. It truly doesn’t matter to her because she trusts him completely, doing this so blindly should terrify her, shouldn’t it? Her trust and heart, that Dean’s basically holding in the palm of his hand, should terrify her. She should be careful about it, she has been told not to trust anyone, but yet, she can’t help but trust him.

He drives into an alleyway and parks in the back of a building that is holding, by a glimpse of it, an art exhibition. All in all when they drove through the streets she could see a lot of students, could see that the atmosphere around here is different, easier, more relaxed, not as gloomy as the atmosphere that surrounds her restaurant, or even inside of her own home.

Dean gets out of the car and walks around, opens the door for her and holds out a hand for her to take.

“Come on,” He says with a smile, tugging at her hand when she lays it in his, and pulls her out with force.

She falls into him and he chuckles, bodies pressed together, and she already tries to scramble away, wants to be careful to not let people see, but Dean’s hand sneaks around her waist, pulls her even closer, tightens his grip around her.

“Dean,” She hisses, her hands are braced on his firm chest, and she feels muscle moving underneath his skin, feels deep vibrations because he’s chuckling.

He noses at her cheek, scruff brushing over sensitive skin, “Don’t worry, we’re safe here.”

“How can you be so sure?” She mumbles and feels Dean’s soft chuckle against her cheek. 

“Come on,” He places a kiss on her burned up skin. 

She’s sure that he can see the fluster in her face. Dean releases his grip around her and walks to the back of the car to get her suitcase out of the trunk. She notices that he has packed a duffel for himself. He jerks his head towards the back entrance of a building, “Follow me.”

Y/N does. Of course she does, because he’s holding out a hand, waits for her to lay hers into his, and there’s a little smirk on his face that lights up. It turns into a wide and white grin as soon as she does. She can’t say no to that. Not even if someone would hold her at gunpoint. 

Dean releases her hand at the door to fish a key out of his pocket. He turns the knob and they find themselves in a narrow staircase.

“Where are we?” She whispers, the sound of her voice echoes off the wall. 

“You’ll see,” He winks and starts to walk up. 

She has a great view from back here. His ass is firm and round in his slacks and it makes her face burn up even more watching him go up the stairs.

Dean stops mid-stride to look down at her, grins when he sees that she didn’t move, “You enjoying the view down there?” 

His voice is loud in the otherwise silent stairwell and it jerks her back from her trance, “Uh, I’m—” His laughter tears through the silence after, and she doesn’t need to answer because Dean’s already on his way, climbing higher, shaking his head and laughing as he goes. 

  
  


*

  
  


She’s almost out of breath as they reach the fifth floor and maybe because of Dean’s endlessly long legs and his super great condition that prompts him to nearly fly up those staircases and she has to run to keep up. 

Still breathing heavy, she walks behind Dean as he strolls along the hallway with rooms left and right. She notices that they are apartments. Some have their doors decorated, some have shoes lying around on the mats in front of the doors. 

They reach one that is neither decorated nor does it have a doormat and Dean keys in, turning the knob to open up. He jerks his head, signaling for her to go in first. 

Y/N steps into a tiny apartment. There’s a kitchen on her left side. Further in the room, there’s a high countertop that serves as a bar and a shelf, with a coffee machine sitting on top of it, as well as a little bowl that holds some keys in it. 

She notices the round dining table that seats four, and the window looking out into the back alley of the building. There’s a couch, a little TV and then further in, there are two doors to the right. She guesses that one is a bedroom and the other one is the bathroom.

He closes the door behind him as he steps in and drops the bag and her suitcase, locks the door too. 

Walking in further, she stands by the countertop as she drinks in her surroundings. 

Dean’s close behind her when she finishes with her inspections, his hands braced on the countertop, caging her in and he leans into her, dropping his head down and letting his nose brush along her shoulder and throat. 

Turning around in his grip, she looks up at him. There’s a frown on her face, she knows, because she doesn’t understand where they are, and doesn't understand Dean’s motives for bringing her here. 

He’s looking down at her and their eyes meet. It’s as if he knows that there are questions bouncing around in her head, “Go on, ask.” He says, tongue coming out to lick at his lips. It’s not fair, really. How can she ask questions when he’s looking at her with those eyes that are a shade darker? How can she, when he’s looking at her as if he wants to devour her, wants to strip her out of her skin and take her insides apart, only to spit her out and take her apart all over again?

Instead of waiting for her to voice her concerns though, he leans in, moves his face forward and she knows that he wants to go in for a kiss so she ducks below his arms that are still braced on the counter, walks further into the room to where the dining table is and Dean sighs before he rubs a hand through his scruff. 

She moves to the window, stands there, and looks out, “Where have you brought me?”


	11. Chapter.10

Seriously, where did he bring her? She knows it’s an apartment, but who does it belong to? She doesn’t recall her dad having apartments in this neighborhood. But again, her dad never tells her anything. Is it his apartment? 

There’s a sound of shuffling, a sound of fabric moving and an audible sigh. She doesn’t look, but she can imagine him threading his hand through his hair, rubbing at his scruff like he normally does when he’s thinking or when he’s choosing his next words wisely. She feels him walking closer, his shoes clicking on the wooden flooring. 

“This is my place,” Dean says and her eyes widen at the revelation. She turns around to see him playing with the back of a chair at the dining table, “I used to live here before I moved into your home.”

Y/N crosses her arms over her chest while she looks at him.

Dean lets out another sigh before he walks closer, placing his hands on her arms and rubs up and down. It’s soothing, she likes that a lot. He looks down at her, breathing out before he clears his throat, “It’s the safest place I know. Nobody knows about this place and I figured, being here is the safest for both of us.”

“Why?”

“Because here, in this little space, we don’t have to act. You aren’t you, and I’m not me. You understand?” Dean leans down, places a kiss on her forehead and she lets him, leans into him a little more, for comfort.

“How do you know that nobody knows about this place?” She can’t not ask, she knows how the people are. How can Dean be so sure that they weren’t followed? That they aren’t being spied on?

“Baby,” He says and she likes it. Had missed the sound of the word. Missed how it comes out of his mouth like a song to her heart, “I’m good at what I’m doing. Your dad doesn’t have a tracker on any vehicle. I’ve made too many detours and always watch my rearview mirror. We’re safe.”

She doesn’t say anything to it. Instead, she looks down and Dean kisses her forehead once more, wrapping his arms around her body and draws her closer. She leans in, smells the cologne on his shirt, smells  _ him _ . 

“Do you trust me?” He asks, and she looks up, leaves her chin on his broad chest and nods. Because she does. She really trusts him and she doesn’t think that he wants to hurt her in any way, shape or form. “This can be our little hideout, okay? I wanted a place where I can be around you without us pretending that we don’t even notice each other. Do you remember the last time?” 

Y/N nods and he smirks, she thinks it’s probably because her cheeks start to light up. Well, how can she not remember? 

Dean chuckles before he goes on, “The last time, I wanted you to be by my side when I woke up. It physically pained me to have to carry you to your own room.” 

He’s right, she wasn’t really happy about that either. Not happy about having to wake up in her own fucking bed. 

“I hope you’re right that nobody will find us here.” 

“I would never put you on the line.” 

She knows that too, he had made it clear enough. She remembers his conflicted gaze burning hot on her skin. And it was her who made the first move. It was always her who pushed him until he surrendered to her. She was selfish and should have thought about him as well. He probably had a hard time trying to figure things out, to know where and how far he wanted to go with what they have. 

Unwrapping her arms from her chest, she brings them down to wrap them around him instead and presses her body closer. Dean smiles when he sees her giving in and kisses the crown of her head, “You good with being here?”

“Yeah,” She says, “I’m just jealous.” 

“What?” There’s a light chuckle and she can feel it traveling over from his chest to hers, “Why?”

“Because,” Y/N unwraps her arms from around Dean’s body and brushes her hand along his clothed arms, up to his shoulder, until she hooks her arms around his neck and Dean knows what she wants, because he lifts her up effortlessly, letting her hook her feet around his waist, “I always dreamed of having my own little place like this.”

“It’s yours now too,” Dean grins as she leans down, the tip of her nose brushed against his, and she has to smile at that too, because it’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to her. 

“Thank you.” She whispers. Her one hand is placed on his cheek, feeling his scruff pricking at her palm before she leans down to kiss him. 

Dean’s tongue teases along her bottom lip, grazing her teeth and she parts her lips, granting him access. The moment his tongue slips in next to hers, Dean lets out a little moan and she smiles into the kiss. She loves the sound of him. Loves that she’s the one who can make him feel this way because it’s how she feels too. 

He turns around with one hand supporting the back of her neck and one hand firm on her ass, tips forward and lays her down right there on the dining table. Dean begins to kiss her more roughly, his hand now on her stomach, the tips of his fingers tease around the seam of her pants while he strokes her hair back with his other hand. She moans into the kiss and he drinks up all the sound she makes. 

His teeth tug at her bottom lip, biting so hard it makes her yelp up and she arches her back, making him chuckle against the corner of her lips. Dean kisses up to her cheeks, kisses her nose and brows, before he works his way back down to her jaw and chin. 

Dean’s sinful lips sucks at the flesh of her throat, teeth nibbling at her skin, “Jesus, I want you so bad,” He pauses to look up at her, kisses her nose once more, “Can I?” 

Her hand cups his cheeks, pulling him down for a kiss, “Yes,” She whispers when they part and Dean’s smiling bright and white. 

He kisses down her body, teeth tugging at the fabric of her shirt and her hands are in his hair as he lifts her top and places careful kisses on her stomach. His fingers find the button of her pants, quickly unbuttoning them and drawing her zipper down agonizingly slow. She lifts herself up on her elbows, watching him with her bottom lips between her teeth. 

Dean pulls at her pants and she lifts her hips to help him get rid of them. He drops the pants to the floor and strokes up her leg, fingers digging a little harder into her flesh when he nears her thighs. He looks at her like she’s his prey again, and it might be absolutely weird, but she loves the look on him. Loves how he looks at her, gets a little wetter when his eyes are so intense. 

His fingers hook into the elastic of her panties, dragging them down, nails brushing over her thighs as he goes. Dean holds up her legs while he slides the garment off, places little kisses on legs, from her knees down to her toes. 

_ God _ , she never thought kissing one's leg could be so fucking erotic, but it seems like whatever Dean’s doing is turning her on, which is  _ really  _ not fucking fair.

He drops the panties to the floor and lets his hands travel up her leg, stilling when he reaches her lower thighs. Dean grabs her knees, pushes them open, groaning out loud when he notices how wet she is. At least she’s sure that he sees it, he must have because she basically feels her wetness running down to her ass crack. 

Standing between her legs, he looks down, right at her center, and she’s feeling a little embarrassed, her hands go down as she tries to cover herself.

“No. Don’t,” He growls low, “I want to see you.” 

It’s the first time that he sees her like this in broad daylight. Quite literally open and his to take. 

She nods and pushes her arms above her head instead.

“Good girl,” He chuckles softly, his tongue coming out to wet his lips and she squirms a little, just a tad, knowing how wet and warm that tongue of his is and she’s looking forward to feel it on her again, “Christ, look at you,” He brings one hand to her center, circles his thumb on her clit, eliciting a broken moan from her, “Wet and spread out like a fucking feast,”

She feels a rush of blood to her face, and clasps her hands over them. 

“No,” Dean grins, “I wanna see you, baby,” 

He waits until she takes her hands away, whispers a “Good girl,” before he lowers himself to his knees. God, just how tall is he because now her pussy’s at the right height to his fucking face. 

Dean holds her legs spread wide while he kisses along her thighs. One side and then the other, deliberately doesn’t kiss her where she wants him the most. 

It’s pure torture.

“Dean,” She whines, probably sounds needy, but it’s not like she cares that much about anything other than feeling him.

He sucks at the flesh of her inner thigh, close to where her pussy’s throbbing. Sucks so hard she’s sure he’ll leave a mark. When he’s finished, he lifts his head, licks and kisses at the place where the blood seeps through the surface of her skin.

“Couldn’t help myself,” He mumbles, as if it’s a valid excuse. 

Perhaps it is. 

In his eyes it is. In hers, too.

Dean watches her, grins cockily and she can’t be mad about it. He licks his lips once more and lowers his face. All the while he’s holding her gaze and she watches him. Watches him sticking his tongue out, watches him lower himself enough so she feels his hot breath fanning over her wet cunt. 

She lets out a whimper when Dean drags his wet and wide tongue along her folds, has to close her eyes for a brief second, but she opens them again, wanting to actually watch him eating her out. 

_ God _ , seeing it turns her on so fucking much.

And eat her out he does. Closes his eyes and licks and sucks at her little stiff nub, moans when he swallows down the taste of her. He tongues at her entrance too, dips his tongue in, making her moan because his tongue is already so thick. 

_ Jesus fuck _ , she’s squirming and trembling already. 

He places his hands in the hollow of her knees, pushes them further back until she’s almost folded in half. Dean dives in, shaking his face as he sucks and laps at her folds. His scruff is rough on her sensitive skin, and she’s sure that there’ll be chafing. She just can’t care about it right now. 

Spreading his wide tongue along her folds, he lowers his face further down to her entrance before he goes even further, and oh shit — nobody’s ever been  _ there _ ! 

His tongue tickles along her rim, goes down to her fucking ass hole and she bites on her tongue to not make too much of a sound. It feels super weird at first, it’s something she’s never experienced before, and he’s licking right  _ there _ , tongue toying around her puckered hole. But fuck, if she said that she doesn’t like it, she’d be straight out lying because it feels fucking great.

Dean pauses to breath, teeth biting down on her ass, “Hold your legs up for me, baby,” 

Of course she does. By now Dean could ask her to jump and she’d only be asking how fucking high he’d want her to. 

Eagerly, she hooks her arms in the hollows of her knees and holds her legs up for him and Dean chuckles while he places kisses on both her ass cheeks.

“Good girl,” He whispers softly before smacking down on her ass. It makes her yelp out, but it’s not really painful, it stings a little and it’s not fair that it makes her pussy throb even more, “You like, that? Like it when I spank you?” 

“God, yes!” The answer comes shooting out of her, like she doesn’t even have to fucking think about if she likes it or not because yes, she fucking does.

Dean chuckles, spanks her twice before he lowers his face to dive in again. He’s toying with his tongue around her asshole some more before he makes his way up again, eating her out like he really and truly enjoys it. It blows her mind. 

He sucks in her clit, lets the tip of his tongue flicker over her nub and then he hums, and fuck, her toes start to curl. 

“Dean, I’m—”

“Come, baby, I want you to come on my face,” 

Another phrase she never heard anyone say to her. 

Wow. 

Just, fucking wow. 

She’s noticeably shaking as her toes cramp up and Dean’s sucks and licks harder, bringing her over the edge. She has to let go of her legs as they shake too hard for her to hold, her thighs pressing together, trapping Dean in between. He doesn’t seem to care because he’s still licking and humming and she’s too far gone to actually care what happens down there anymore when a wave of pure bliss washes over her. 

  
  


____________________________________________________

  
  
  


Dean’s trapped between her thighs and the only way he can go is forward, diving deeper into her pussy and that’s the only place he really wants to go anyway. He feels her legs cramping and shaking around him, feels the gush of her cum splashing his face, feels the throbbing of her pussy inside his mouth. 

It’s getting harder and harder for him to breathe and well, if he’d go that way, he won’t even be mad. There are definitely worse ways to go and he’d take  _ smothered by a pussy _ above torturing any day. 

After maybe another thirty seconds, Y/N releases her thighs from around his face, and Dean gasps, filling his lungs with fresh air. He looks up to see her chest heaving, her eyes are still closed, blissed out and her face is glowing. 

A fucking beautiful sight. 

He places a kiss on her cunt before sticking out his tongue to lick at his lips and swallows down the taste of her. He super loves how she tastes. Would just love to spend a whole day down there if she would just let him. 

Dean lifts himself off his knees, stands up and bends down, hovers above her. Her eyes are still closed but she opens them up when she feels him hot breath fanning over her face. She laughs when she opens them up to see him staring down at her. 

Her hands go to cup his cheeks, fingers brushing at the wetness of her that sticks to him like glue, he really doesn’t mind. Dean leans further down, claims her mouth, kisses her deep and hard, sucks in her tongue, making her moan into his open mouth. 

Breaking the kiss, he leaves his forehead on hers, “Come on, hold tight,” 

He doesn’t even have to elaborate because she just knows. She nods before wrapping her arms around his neck and Dean pushes himself away from the table, lets her hook her legs around his waist. Dean will never be able to eat at that table without thinking of eating her out again. 

Feeling her wetness seeping through his dress shirt, he holds her just a little tighter, pulls her closer, because he doesn’t mind that too, he’d need to change into another shirt for the meeting later anyway.

With her in his arms, he walks to his bedroom, all while spraying kisses around her nose and cheek, and she giggles. It’s a great sound, really.

He’s glad that they don’t have to be quiet here. Because yeah, he’d like to hear her. Likes to hear how he can make her fall apart. Wants to fucking hear her beg for him to fuck her. Wants to hear her moans. Wants to hear his name off her fucking delicious lips.

Walking to the bed, he drops her off carelessly, making her bounce with laughter. He takes a step back to admire her. Actually enjoys the sight of her in his bed. In his real bed, of his real life. It’s weird, but he wants to keep that, keep her here, where nobody fucking knows their names. 

Dean gets out of his suit jacket and works his fingers on the buttons of his dress shirt. Y/N doesn’t wait either because she’s pulling her shirt over her head, shows him the cutest bra that matched her fucking cute panties he peeled from her legs. He wonders if she wore them for him. Hopes a little, that she did.

Her hands reach back as she wants to unclasp them but Dean stops her, “Let me,” He says and abandons his half-open shirt to step closer. He reaches out, letting his finger trail along the strap of her bra from her shoulder down to the peak of her nipples. He can feel her shudder underneath his touch and god, his dick twitches too. She’s definitely not the only one affected. 

His fingers go up again, hooks his one digit around the strap and let it drop down. He does the same to her other strap and the image of her now, with her on her knees on his bed, naked to the bra, fuck, really a beautiful sight to behold. 

Expertly, he unclasps her bra one-handed with an easy flick of his fingers. He’s not a rookie, knows exactly how bras work and she’s not surprised. The garment drops down to the bed and Dean’s hand is on her again, touching her tits, fingers tweaking at her erect nipples. He can’t really help it, lowers himself down and kisses each of her breasts, before he sucks each of her nipples into his mouth, tongue twirling at their little peaks. Her hands are in his hair, he likes the tight grip she has on him. 

“Play with yourself while I get rid of my clothes,” He says and maybe it’s also a dare because he doesn’t know if she really would. 

Dean already thinks that she’d frown, thinks that she’d look at him with a pout because she’d think that  _ how dare he gives her commands _ , but none of that happens. She really leans back, spreads her fucking luscious legs, and touches herself fucking  _ there _ . Nimble fingers drawing circles on her clit and Dean lets out a groan because his cock fucking aches at the sight before him. 

He works on his buttons a little faster now, debating on tearing that fucking fabric apart, and sighs in relief when he unbuttons the last of his buttons. Dean tears the shirt from his frame, drops it carelessly on the floor before he works on his pants. He manages to unbuckle his belt and unhooks the hook on his pants when she starts to speak.

She has stopped touching herself to crawl over the bed on all fours and gets off it until she’s standing right beside him, “Let me,” She grins, her hand goes to his bulge and god, how can Dean say no when she palms him through his pants? It’s not like he’s able to think straight.

Kissing him, her fingers find his zipper, open it up so fucking slow and lets his pants drop down to pool around his ankles. Dean steps out of them and gasps when her hand finds his hips, nail raking along his skin, sending goosebumps up his spine.

Hooking her fingers around the elastic of his underwear, she pulls them down, and his dick springs free, slapping wetly against his stomach. 

Y/N gives him space to get out of the underwear too.

When he’s standing up as erect as his cock, she grins, places a kiss on his throat, “Sit on the bed, Dean.”

The tables have officially turned. He’s not even mad. It’s her who has the upper hand, it has always been her, who is he kidding. 

Dean sits down and watches with hungry eyes as she kneels down. She helps him take off his socks before she does the same as he did. Stroking up his legs and thighs, and he shudders. 

There’s a grin on her face that turns into a look of uncertainty. Something’s clearly bugging her and all of a sudden, she lets the facade of the strong woman who knows exactly what she wants crumble. 

“I’m—” She says while she still strokes up and down his thighs.

And Dean knows, he just  _ knows _ . 

“Baby, you don’t have to,” 

“No—, no, it’s okay, I want to. I’m just—, you know,”

He knows.

“Shhh,” Dean hushes her and reaches out, cupping her chin with his fingers to draw her close. 

She gets on her knees a little, leaning in to let him kiss her. 

“It’s okay, just do what you want, okay? I’m sure you’re going to be great,” He whispers as he parts and she bites on her bottom lip, nodding her head. He kisses her forehead and she smiles as she lowers herself back on her heels. 

Y/N slots herself between his thighs, and Dean spreads his legs wider for her, leaning back a little just to give her more space. The anticipation is killing him. 

Her eyes are on him as she moves even closer and his dick jerks towards her face, towards the source of her warm breath. She swallows before she teases her tongue around his cock head, flicks it at the underside of the head and Dean bites his lips so hard, grunting something incoherent under his breath. 

Twirling her tongue around the head some more, she lets it lick over his leaking slit, stops for a moment to let the taste of his pre-cum flood her mouth. 

_ Jesus fucking Christ! _

He’s so fucking turned on, he thinks he won’t last.

With one hand, she cups his balls, strokes him as she wraps her lips around the head of his dick and takes him deeper into her warm and wet heaven. 

_ Fuck. _

Hollowing out her cheeks, she sucks him a little harder, goes down a little further until there’s resistance at the back of her mouth. She doesn’t stop, though, tries to push past that barrier, and Dean hands fists in the sheets around him when he feels the squeeze of her throat. 

He lets out a loud groan, and she pulls off his dick, it’s awfully wet from her spit. Dean sees her coming up with glassy eyes, and there’s a tear streaking down her face. She coughs some more while she continues to fist his dick, it’s a little painful, the grip a little on the side of too hard, but he doesn’t say anything, actually quite enjoys it. 

“Jesus, baby, you don’t have to take it in so deep,” He tells her, tries to say that it doesn’t have to be like that. That this is not porn and he doesn’t need for her to be able to deep throat to enjoy it. He already does. She already does make him fucking crazy.

Y/N sniffs and nods, before she takes him into her mouth again, this time she doesn’t take him in so deep but deep enough for him, as she works the rest of his lengths with her hand. 

“Looks at me,” He reaches out to stroke her hair back, and she does, looks at him with her mouth full of his cock, “You look so fucking good,”

It’s true, his heart might burst, he isn’t sure how he manages to still hold back.

She lets his dick slip out with a lewd pop and looks at him, works him with her hand. Grinning mischievously, she drops her head down and Dean’s heart starts to thump just a little faster.

Dean almost chokes on his own spit when she licks at his balls, sucks in one of them and worries at it on the inside of her warm mouth.

Dropping his head back with a groan, he closes his eyes briefly to relish in the feel. It’s so good. So fucking good.

“Good girl,” Dean praises when he manages to form coherent thoughts, feels her sucking just a little harder before she pops it out to suck at his other ball, “Jesus, you’re doing so good, baby,”

Y/N stops paying attention to his balls after a while and goes even further down. Her hands lift at his thighs, signaling for him to move them so she’ll have better access and who would he be if he denied her this.

Now he’s half laying on the bed, holding his legs up for her to lick at his rim and  _ holy fuck _ . Dean’s breathing gets ragged, “You don’t have to—”

“—I want to,” She smiles before he drops her head lower, toying at his back hole and  _ holy fucking shit, fuck _ !

All coherent thoughts have left his body and Dean keeps on cursing under his breath while he cranes his neck to be able to fucking  _ see _ .

She’s face deep in his ass crack and his heart is beating out of his chest. Dean fists his cock because she abandons it to be able to concentrate. He can’t stop moaning.

Lifting her face, she smiles up at him,  _ god _ , the smile makes him feel light-headed.

“It felt good when you did that to me, does it feel good for you too?”

“Fuck, yes,” He groans and she chuckles before she licks around his hole a couple more times and works her way up again to worry at his balls.

Y/N reaches the tip of his cock after a while and Dean already feels his balls draw up dangerously high. He reaches out, grabs at her arm and pulls her up to him, crashes his mouth on hers and kisses her rough and hard, letting his own taste flood his goddamn mouth, doesn’t even fucking mind anymore. 

He parts with a bite to her bottom lip, “I wanna fuck you so bad,”

She grins against his lips, “Do it,”

Nibbling at her bottom lip, he chuckles before he throws her onto the bed playfully so she’s laying on her stomach. 

Dean moves to his knees, fists his cock as he gets closer, “On your knees,” he smacks at her ass and she immediately lifts herself up. 

“Good girl,” He praises again before moving behind her.

Tapping at both her knees, he tells her to spread them some more before slotting himself behind her. He threads the head of his cock through the slick of her folds, teases her a little because he’s a little shit, he knows.

“Dean,” She pushes her ass back, sounds absolutely whiny and Dean has to chuckle at that.

Threading his dick through her slick some more, he breaches her pussy with the tip of his cock before he places both his hands on her hips, pulls it towards him to sink inside slowly. She moans when he bottoms out.

Dean moves his hips, withdrawing his cock far enough so only his tip stays inside, only to slam in again, faster now, a little on the rougher side, and again, she moans so fucking sweet. 

“My God, your pussy feels so fucking good, baby,” He chokes out as he sets a steady pace, fucking in and out and he spanks down on both her ass cheeks, making her arch her back because of the sting, and fuck, it feels even better because the angle has shifted. He spanks her some more, just because she allows him to, her pussy clenches at every spank. 

He leaves his hands on her ass, kneads her flesh, his fingerprints clearly visible. Dean absolutely loves seeing them. It makes him proud to know that he’s leaving a mark. It’s a weird feeling because he would absolutely love it when people know that she’s his. 

Spreading her ass with his hands, Dean watches his dick go in and out, watches how her pussy grips his dick, sees the cream on his cock that her pussy leaks. 

He moves one hand to her crack, spits on her ass hole and rubs the pad of his thumb around the puckered skin. She clenches her pussy upon feeling it, which makes him grunt out.

Slowly, he eases the tip of his thumb in and she moans, and doesn't fucking tell him to stop. 

A good fucking girl indeed.

“Where’s my thumb, baby?” His voice is strained, he clears his throat and swallows.

Y/N’s panting below him, “Oh God, It’s I— In my— My ass,”

“That’s right, it’s in your ass, baby, do you like it?” His own breathing is a little off as well, but how can he concentrate with that view? 

“It feels weird,” She says and when Dean withdraws, she quickly adds, “No, no! It feels good now, really good. Put it back in!”

He chuckles, spanks down on her ass once more as before he works his thumb back into her ass again. Her pussy gets tighter, and he groans loudly because he’s so fucking close.

Dean pulls out after four more thrusts and flips her over. She’s really so easy to manhandle. Her eyes meet his and he takes his time to admire her, takes his time to look at her face, notices the flush of her cheeks, notices the droop of her lids. 

Sitting down, he lifts her up easily, making her straddle him and positions his cock to her entrance. She’s holding herself up with her arms around his neck, and Dean kisses her chest, licks a path up her throat as she slowly impales herself. He groans against her cheek when he’s sheathed. 

“I’m close, touch yourself, baby, come with me,” He chokes out as she bounces up and down on top of him. 

Y/N nods and wedges an arm between them and she starts to rub at herself, her hand and fingers occasionally bump against his dick that goes in and out of her, the sensation is incredible. 

_ Fuck _ , there’s the clench of her pussy. It’s so powerful that it almost pushes him out of her and Dean wraps his arms around her tighter.

“Dean, I’m—” She says breathlessly, her nails digging into the flesh on the back of his neck.

“I know, I’m here, I’m—, fuck—, I’m coming, baby,” He groans as he feels her getting even tighter, feels her gushing her juice all around his dick. 

Dean buries his face into the crook of her neck, groans some more, and squeezes his eyes shut as he comes deep inside of her sweet pussy. 

  
  
  


*

  
  


She’s in his bed when Dean walks in with bottled water. He unscrews it and holds it out for her to take. She’s still naked under the cover, her hair’s in disarray and she really looks like she’s been fucked six ways to Sunday. 

He has moved her suitcase into the room a moment ago and she’s looking at her phone when she drinks her water. Dean takes it away when she finishes and downs the rest of the beverage, frowning at her because she doesn’t pay him attention. 

“What’s on there?” He asks and raises his eyebrows before he lifts the covers and gets back in. He nuzzles against her throat, kisses her shoulder.

Y/N grins at him before she clicks her phone shut and places it back onto the nightstand, “Bela asked where I was.”

She turns back to him and Dean pulls her into his arms. He kisses her forehead, before mumbling, “What did you tell her?”

Wrapping her arm around his body, she looks up to him, a smile on her face, “That I’m on my way to a meeting with you.”

“Have you met her again when I was away?” 

“Yeah, she was in and out of the house, but she didn’t speak much to me. I wonder what’s wrong. She’s been acting weird, but when I ask what’s wrong, she said she’s having a falling out with her fiancé.”

Dean frowns, “Have you met her fiancé?”

“Nuh-huh,” She shakes her head, “Why?”

Dean doesn’t say anything and holds her just a little tighter. She doesn’t need to know that he’s having doubts that Bela’s telling her the truth. He needs proof first because Y/N would have a hard time believing him without any.

All of a sudden, Y/N’s head jerks off his shoulders, “Shit,” She gasps, in a panicked voice.

“What?” He’s already on alert, his grip is tighter around her, for comfort. 

“I forgot that I have to pee.”

Dean frowns but that frown turns comical, “What? How can you forget to pee?”

“No, no,” She groans, “Like I’ve been taught that I always have to pee after sex to prevent contracting a UTI.”

She turns on her back and Dean braces himself on his elbow, facing her, “Who taught you that?”

“Ellen,” She looks at him and mumbles.

“The housekeeper?”

“Yeah,” 

“What else did she teach you?” 

“Uh,” Her face flares up, it’s really super cute, “The thing I did with my tongue, you know… your balls, and butt,”

“What?”

“She told me that there are guys who like it, did you not?”

“Yeah, well,” Dean chuckles, “Fuck, yeah, I did.”

She gets out of bed and walks out of the room in order to get to the bathroom, leaving him grinning like an idiot at the memory of her doing the thing with her tongue. Fuck, that was really great. Maybe he should send Ellen a thank you card or a fucking fruit basket to express his gratitude. 

After a while, Y/N pokes her head into the door while she hugs the doorframe. She’s still naked, and Jesus, the sight of her does something to his heart. 

“So, shouldn’t we get ourselves ready?”

Dean grins while he gets up and walks over to her. He leans down, pecks the crown of her head, “You’re right. Let’s take a shower.”


	12. Chapter.11

Y/N’s in Dean’s bedroom, getting herself ready while Dean talks on the phone. It rang after he came out of the shower and he walked into the living room. She doesn’t know if it’s to give her privacy or if he doesn’t want her to hear. Either way, she doesn’t have time to dwell on it because she has to get herself ready for a meeting. The first outing that she’s allowed to have in the name of the family. 

Her clothes are all laid out on the bed and while she applies moisturizer to her body. She puts the outfits together in her mind, thinking about what would suit her best, what would be the best outfit that’ll show that she means it. An outfit that shows that she’s a woman who can keep up with the men. Nothing too revealing, she guesses, but something fierce enough to make them gasp. Her mind’s setting on the pencil leather skirt, now she just has to see what blouse would fit best with her skirt and the shoes she’s packed.

Dean’s still talking outside and she hears that he’s trying to keep his voice down. She slips into her panties. The fabric of the little garment rubs a little too hard against her sensitive clit. She thinks about ditching them later, wonders if it would matter. Nobody will know if she’s wearing panties or not, right? Also, there’s chafing from Dean’s scruff that doesn’t support the argument of her having to wear panties. She’s sensitive all over, feels like her nipples are raw from his sucking, too. God, that man will definitely be the death of her, but it’s not like she minds. 

Everything is super sensitive now because they did it again in the shower. Dean’s shower is not as spacious as the shower at her home, but they made it fit and he fucked her standing up against the wall, pressing her back into the tiles and hooked one arm below her knees, lifting her leg up while he rubbed at her clit.

Blood rushes to her head again when she thinks about it. 

So now, she’s standing here, and debates between two blouses. One’s white with long flowing arms and the other one’s red, sleeveless, with a bow around her neck. 

She can’t possibly make up her mind because she likes them both, so she decides to ask Dean. He knows exactly where they are going, he would know what would fit, wouldn’t he? 

Still in only her panties, she clutches the blouses to her chest to hide that little modesty she still possesses, even though she knows that Dean’s seen it all already anyway, and he probably likes her best without any clothes on at all. Knows it, because he had stated it a couple of times, and it always makes her flustered all over.

Dean’s standing at the dining table and her cheeks get hot again thinking about what they’ve done on there. He’s not dressed either, a towel hanging dangerously low around his hips, making him look absolutely delicious with damp ruffled up hair. The scars on his body have a certain edge to them, but the freckles round the edges up. He’s devine and that’s not really fair. He has no business being so perfect.

Biting on her bottom lip, she approaches him, but he’s not paying her attention. He’s looking down to the hand that fidgets around the back of a chair. It’s as if he’s a little nervous, a little on edge.

“Hey,” She hisses and Dean frowns, but still he doesn’t look.

“Dean!” She tries again and he only holds a forefinger up at her to shush her while he concentrates on listening to the conversation. He still doesn’t look up at her. It’s as if he tries to avoid her at any cost.

Rolling her eyes, she tries to think of a way to get his attention, grinning when she gets a flash of an idea. 

Y/N drops the blouses to the floor and shows him her boobs, “Hey!” She hisses again, louder, while she squeezes them together and jiggles them around. 

Well, she gets his attention now, but he’s looking less than amused. Dean frowns, and waves at her to stop. 

Then she hears it. 

“Yes, sir, goodbye.”

_ Fuck. _

He’s talking to her dad. 

And she just flashed him.

Dean hangs up and sets the phone onto the table and exhales deeply before he rubs a hand over his face.

He turns to her after and speaks. His voice is loud and he sounds annoyed, “Jesus fucking Christ, princess!”

Oh, so now she’s back to being  _ princess _ . She guesses that when he’s upset with her, she’s forever going to be  _ princess  _ to him.

“You can’t just show me your tits when I talk to your father! Fuck, now every time I talk to him I’ll see them in my mind!” He growls low.

She’s smirking and tries not to laugh because honestly, that is a little funny?

Dean begs to differ though, because he strolls closer. One hand goes below her chin, fingers cupping it and turns it upwards to meet his eyes while his other hand cups around one of her tits, palms kneading, fingers pinching at her nipple, she squirms.

“What is it that couldn’t possibly wait until I’m finished with a call?”

“I don’t know what to wear,” She mumbles and Dean groans out in frustration before he bends down to kiss her. 

“You know,” He says when he parts, his hands leaving her completely to pick up her blouses from the floor, “One day, you’re going to kill me with your bratty behavior.”

She grins as he hands the blouse to her, “You like it, though?”

At least she hopes he does. Like, he knew what he had gotten himself into when it all started, so he really can’t blame her for acting the way she does.

He rolls his eyes briefly, but it’s all fake because he’s grinning now when he bends down to peck her lips, “Love it.” 

Smiling, she holds up the blouses and lifts her eyebrows. 

“White.” He nods toward the white blouse, “Although I would love to see the red on you, but I think white would suit better tonight. Makes you look more like someone to take seriously and not some eye candy hanging off someone’s arm.”

“Thanks,” She says and thinks that’s what she likes about Dean. He says things like it is, doesn’t sugarcoat it and he’s not just babbling to shut her up. 

“Go get dressed before I can’t hold myself back from taking you all over again.” He smacks her ass on his way to the bathroom.

“Who said I would mind that?” Y/N calls after him and Dean chuckles.

  
  
  


____________________________________________________

  
  
  


She almost threw him off his balance with her jiggly tits. It’s not really fair. And really, he hopes that her tits won’t be the first thing that comes to his mind when he sees Azazel’s caller ID.

The boss had informed him that Benny would be at the meeting too and  _ that _ rubs him the wrong way. What’s so fucking important for Benny to be there anyway? Azazel made it clear that Benny’s not allowed to interfere with Dean’s business, but Dean will only believe it when he sees it. 

He’s gnawing on his bottom lip as they drive towards Atlantic City. 

It’s a two hour drive and they made it halfway when she turned in her seat. The leather underneath her ass makes a loud sound. That’s right, she’s wearing leather. He almost choked on his own drool when he saw it. 

Dean gets weak for leather. Especially for her in leather. The skirts so tight it accentuates her round ass. He couldn’t help but spank down on it a couple of times while they walked down the stairs from his apartment. Every time she would stop and stare at him with a rolling of her eyes and every time, Dean would giggle like an idiot. 

It’s good between them. They’re relaxed. He likes that. Would like to keep it that way, but he knows that it’s just only the start of a hardship he might have to go through. She might have to go through. 

After they laid in his bed for a while, with her in his arms, he stroked her back, with neither of them speaking. Sometimes there’s just nothing to say and he liked that the most. The comfortable silence. There were no sorry excuses, no thoughts of having made a mistake, no small talk just to get over the awkwardness of the situation after the lust has worn out. And that was the moment that he thought about the future for the first time. That he could just grab her and run away. Nobody would know, nobody would find them. It would be good, he just knows it. It’s only — Dean doesn’t know if she would want it. If she was even ready to leave everything behind, and the last thing he wants to be is selfish. But yeah, maybe he would do it all for her, leave everything behind and screw up the Bureau for a woman. Which is really a stupid thing to do, but it would probably be worth it. 

They drive past a big advertisement for  _ Roman Empire _ . It’s the biggest and apparently the best casino in Atlantic City. Of course, it is. The Roman’s wouldn’t settle for second best.

“We’re going to meet the Roman’s?” She asks curiously, and Dean can hear it in her tone of voice that she’s not really keen on meeting them. 

“Yeah, they have some proposals.”

“They’re dicks.” She mumbles under her breath.

Dean has to chuckle at that, because she’s not wrong. The Roman’s are the number one mob family in Atlantic City. They are the equivalent to the Lehne’s. They own every casino, hell, they even own New Jersey. Their wealth is immense. 

He cocks an eyebrow at her, “You’ve met them?” 

“Yeah, at gatherings where Dad allowed me to attend. Dick is a real big dick. I heard he moved to California, set up his own thing there. His father is a sleazeball.”

“I know,” Dean reaches over, takes her hand in his, “Just, don’t let your emotions overrule your head, okay? We’re there to make deals.”

“Ugh,” She groans with an eye roll.

“That’s the spirit,” He smirks and takes her hand, places it to his lips to kiss it quickly. 

She sighs, “What if he touches me?” 

“Who?”

“Zachariah, Dick. Both of them.”

Frowning, Dean looks over to her, “Have they done that before?”

“Yeah,”

Dean’s grip tightens around her hand. Jesus, he feels like punching something all of a sudden. 

His voice is deep, and he growls a little when he speaks again, “Does your father know that they have touched you inappropriately?” 

“He was right there.” 

_ Fucking Christ, _ now he really wants to shoot someone. His heart absolutely aches for what she had to go through growing up in this family. Growing up in a world reigned by men. It’s not a great environment for a girl to grow up.

“I’ll put them in their place if they do,” Dean says. It’s the only thing he can say, really. He can’t erase the past, but he can make sure that he’s here in the present.

“What if you aren’t there?”

Dean catches a glimpse of her little pout when the street light illuminates up the inside of the car.

“I’ll always be beside you.” He assures her, because yeah, after finding out that piece of information, he doesn’t really have the urge to leave her unattended at all.

“Promise?” 

He places another kiss on the back of her hand, “Promise.”

  
  
  


*

  
  


They arrive and Dean gets out of the car, walks around to open up the passenger side for her, and holds out a hand to help her out. 

“You know they have valet parking, right?” She asks before she takes his hand.

Dean shrugs, “I feel better knowing where my car is and can reach it at all times.”

She only frowns a little as she gets out.

“Remember, no weapons.” He says as she’s standing before him.

She waves her clutch around, “Duh, how can I fit that into my clutch?”

“Y/N,” Dean looks at her sternly. She thinks he’s joking but really, he’s not. It’s the rule. No fucking weapons when they come in peace. The Lehni’s have the same rule and it’s only fair that they play by the Roman’s rule, even though Dean hates the rule himself. He looks at her again, cocks one eyebrow because she’s still looking at him like she’s innocent. Dean hates that look because she’s not. She’s not innocent when she grins up at him while she licks at his asshole, she’s not innocent when she moans for him to fuck her harder. No, she’s not and he shouldn’t get weak, “Put your gun back. Now.”

Rolling her eyes back dramatically, she lets out a loud sigh. Dean has to hold back a chuckle. He watches her lift up her leather skirt, watches her take out her gun from her holster, and turns around to put it into the glove compartment of his car. 

“How did you know?” She whines when she turns back to him, bracing her arms across her chest and fucking pouts. 

“I’m just good like that,” He grins cockily before he weaves an arm around her waist to help steady her in her heels as he guides her towards the entrance of the casino.

  
  
  


*

  
  


They are led into the back of the casino, where there’s a strip club. Dean has since taken his arms from around her waist because it’s back to acting like they aren’t more than what they are. It pains him a little. Irritates him a whole lot. And from the way her body’s drawn to him, leaving him no space, he can see that she’s not entirely happy about it either. 

He leans closer, nose brushing against her temple, “Just this, okay? I’m right here.” 

She seems to nod. Dean can’t really see it because she’s following the employee who’s walking ahead and he waits a couple of seconds, walking a safe distance after her. 

The door to the strip club opens and loud music spills out of it. The room is dark, neon lights everywhere. It’s a tad over the top, he thinks. A little cheap, like who the hell uses neon lights nowadays anyway? It makes him feel like he’s in a dingy strip club and not a high-end one. 

Dean seems to be the only one who thinks it’s tacky because the club is packed. There are girls dancing on stage, girls grinding on men’s lap and he notices Y/N stalling by the door. She doesn’t look comfortable at all. 

He reaches out, touches her arm, “I’m going first,” He whispers, “Follow me,” 

She does, follows him and catches up to him pretty quickly. They are walking beside each other now and she takes glances left and right while they still follow the employee around. 

“You've been to a strip club before?” She asks underneath her breath. 

“Yeah,” He chuckles.

“Huh,” 

“Not lately, though.” Dean tries to talk himself out of his mistake, but he knows that he’ll probably get an earful when they’re alone. 

“Huh,”

She crosses her arms over her chest while they walk and he thinks it’s adorable how she’s jealous. It makes him a little proud to know that he’s not the only one feeling the things he does. 

The employee leads them along across the club, and there were a couple of girls who gave him the eye, some of them make themselves known by bumping into him. Dean tries his best not to look. Tries to fucking stay focused and walk on because he’s here to do his job and well, maybe it’s also because he doesn’t want to upset her. It’s not like he’s interested anyway. Not when the girl he actually wants sitting on his lap is her. 

Y/N only rolls her eyes as she sees him trailing along, and Dean smirks, which earned him another eye roll. He thinks it’s cute. She’d deny. 

They were led onto the second floor where there was a group of chairs sitting around a table. They spot Benny and his two right-hand men Ed and Nick. Nick has risen up in his ranks, as Dean can see. What Dean didn’t account for was to see Azazel sitting with them, his two bodyguards standing behind him. Women in skimpy bikinis are serving them drinks and there’s one sitting on Nick’s lap. 

“You didn’t tell me they’d all be here,” Y/N whispers through her gritted teeth, loud enough for him to hear.

“I didn’t know about your dad, okay?” 

“But you knew about Benny?” 

“Yeah, from the phone call which you flashed me your fucking tits.” Dean hisses while they walk over slowly, so they can have this exchange of words. 

They both try to smirk while not letting people see that they are talking to each other.

“Oh, please,” She chuckles, “You love them.”

“I’d love them more if I wasn’t associating them with your dad,” He says and nods at the waitress who just walked past him. 

“I wish you would have told me at least about Benny.”

“Why? Would that have changed your mind?” 

“No, but I would have worn fucking panties.”

Dean stops mid-stride and she looks back at him with a grin. He watches her walk up to her people, greeting them and taking a seat next to her father. 

He wished that she would have kept that fucking detail to herself, though. Now he won’t be able to think of anything else than her sitting there with nothing underneath her fucking leather skirt. And she’s probably still dripping his cum while she looks her father straight in his eyes. 

This is pure torture and he’s been tested, he knows. 

_ This fucking girl. _

  
  


____________________________________________________

  
  
  


Y/N greets her dad with a kiss to his cheek and sits down, only nodding to the other men around. 

“I think you should leave,” She says to the girl in Nick’s lap, even before Dean sits down and the stripper looks at her in bewilderment. She smiles politely, “You heard me.” 

“I’ll tell her to leave whenever I want,” Nick snarls.

“And I’m telling her to leave now. It’s not a fucking party, Nick. We’re here for business.” She says firmly, stands by her point that nobody should listen in. They can’t be careful enough with possible snitches around. 

Dean sits down next to her, rights his suit jacket and nods towards Nick, “You heard the lady, man. Ditch the stripper,”

Nick gasps and looks over to Benny for some back up but Benny ignores him completely. Reluctantly, he pushes the stripper away and the girl stands up and struts away angrily. 

“Since when does she call the shots around here— Ow!” Nick yelps out and everyone knows that Benny kicked him under the table. 

God, her dad really works with an immature bunch of men, doesn’t he? 

Her dad leans towards her, whispering in her ear and she tunes out all the other ramblings she hears from Nick, “You’re doing good. It’s a whole new side I see. I like it. Did Dean explain to you and teach you what tonight’s all about?” 

“Yes, he did.” She tries to not think about other things he taught her about, the things that make her whimper in pleasure.

“Good,” Her dad nods.

Five minutes passed until a big bulky bodyguard walks in and calls for them. Zachariah is ready to meet. 

They have been led through another door where they step into an elevator. The eight of them, plus the bodyguard, stand close, chest to chest and she’s glad Nick and his filthy hands were far away from her, glad that it’s Dean who’s next to her, not so glad that her dad is on her other side of her. 

Y/N feels something warm between her legs, feels Dean’s cum trickling out thickly, has to squint her eyes and frowns a little. Of course Dean notices, looking down at her and raises his eyebrows. She doesn’t say anything, can’t possibly talk when everyone can hear her.

When they arrive, everyone scrambles to get out of the confined space pretty quickly, but Dean stays.

He looks down with worried eyes, “You okay?”   


“Yeah,” She says, “Your cum dripped out. I might need some tissues.” 

“Jesus,” Dean mutters under his breath and shakes his head as he steps out of the elevator.

She can’t help but grin as she catches up with the lot. 

  
  


____________________________________________________

  
  


_ Goddamnit _ , he’s really being tested right now. How can he sit still and concentrate when he knows she fucking leaks him while sitting next to her fucking father? 

She’s going to be the death of him, Dean just knows it. 

They arrive at a heavy door, which is held up by two other big bulky men and they step in, where Zachariah is already waiting, sitting at a big round table with his son. The table only fits six, so Azazel takes a seat, beckons for his daughter and Dean. Benny takes a seat too and Dean still hasn’t figured out why the hell the dude’s here.

“Do the two losers need to be here?” Zachariah asks into the round, pointing his chin towards Ed and Nick and all eyes are on Benny. 

“Uh, no, they don’t.” The man says and Dean has to hold himself back not to speak that Benny too, doesn’t have any business to be here. 

“Then they should leave. Go to the club. My treat.” Zachariah says with a sleazy grin. 

Y/N was right when she said that he’s a sleazeball. Dean has to smirk a little thinking back on  _ how  _ she said it. 

The two men’s faces light up and they immediately disappear, muttering something about a lapdance while Benny shakes his head. Benny’s probably questioning his entourage right now. A bunch of unprofessionals is what they are.

“Why are you here?” Zachariah asks and he stares at Y/N, his tongue darts out to lick his lips and Dean balls his hands into fists. God, he would just love to punch that fucker for looking at her like that. 

“She’s dipping her toes into the business, Zach,” Azazel says, and maybe Dean’s mistaken, but he can hear something in the tone of his voice. Something that says that Azazel’s a little proud.

“Sweetheart, you shouldn’t be doing this,” Dick, who hasn’t said a word until now says, smirking a little, “Don’t you have somewhere else to be? Spending daddy’s cash or organizing some catering for parties?”

Dean’s lips are already parted, he already wanted to put Dick into place, but Y/N cuts him off.

“I actually do have better things to do, yes. But you wanted a meeting and that’s why we’re here. Can’t choose where you’re born into, can you, Dick? I bet you have better things to do in California as well.”

She says it with a calm voice, but he knows that she’s not. Her hands are shaking a little and he knows that she wanted to say so much more. She wanted to run her mouth, put Dick into place, but she chose to stay professional. He absolutely admires her. Dean lays a hand on her thigh under the table, some kind of a reassurance that he’s here. A way of telling her that she’s doing great so far.

Dick looks at her father, a frown on his face and Zach just clears his throat, “Right, so shall we? We want to get this over with before we go to the next part which is more relaxing to me.”

Dean doesn’t even know that there’s a next part, but he agrees that he too, wants to get this over with. 

“We’ve been in contact with Winchester before,” Zach nods at Dean and Dean nods back, “We have not one but three shipments on their way over from China. It’s the biggest deal we’ve ever made with the Chinese. All we need are some old warehouses where we can set up labs.”

“You don’t have enough of this in New Jersey?” Azazel asks and Dean knows why. Azazel is keen on dealing but not keen on cooking the drugs himself. 

Zach laughs heartily and elbows his son who starts to laugh too, “No we don’t. Not for that amount of goods,”

“How many are we talking about?” It’s Benny who asks. 

“About sixty to seventy warehouses.” 

Azazel whistles under his breath, “That’s a lot.” 

“It’s a lot of money we can make.” Dick chimes in.

The King clicks his tongue and exhales loudly, “What’s our cut?”

“We will provide the infrastructure, provide the cooks and the people manning the warehouse. We will pay you rent.” Dick says, and adds, “But we know that you don’t like to have your fingers deep in cooking so we’ll reward you for renting it out to us. 30% of the profit.”

“That’s how much?” It’s Y/N who asks. Dean’s a little proud, a little stunned too that she followed the conversation. Well, he knows that she’s not dumb but they don’t. Everyone is looking at her now and notice that she’s still here.

“Roughly about $600k a month,” Zach says proudly. 

“So, say, we let you rent seventy warehouses and you make $30k a month per warehouse. That would mean you make over $2m a month and will give us our $600k cut,” Y/N calculates it in her head, “How can you be so sure that you’re going to make that much money?”

“Girl can do some math, congratulations!” Zach shouts out in mockery and really, Dean has to fucking hold himself back, “We know this because it’s not the first time we’ve cooked, sweetheart.” 

“And why only 30% then? We have more risks, people are disposable, warehouses aren’t. If they find a warehouse, it will somehow lead back to us. We have more risk than you do, I’d think we need to raise the stake.” She drums on her notepad with her ballpoint pen while she cocks an eyebrow at Zach and Dick. 

_ Christ _ , Dean finds that side of her highly attractive. It turns him on when she has them by the balls. 

“What do you suggest?” Dick looks at her with a smug grin on his face. 

“50%,”

“What?” Zach spits and Dick has to calm his father down, laying a hand on Zach’s arm. 

“What’s your guarantee for us?” Dick asks as he feels his dad calming down enough. 

She looks into the round and Dean just knows that she has something in mind. He can see from the glint in her eyes, sees it in how her lips curve up into a smile. 

Tonight before they left, she wanted to look at the files and she sat there for an hour, looking through what little information Dean had, and when she finished, she started to smile and that’s when Dean knew that she wanted to lead the deal and he knew that he’d gladly let her. It’s also for her to show her dad that she’s capable, that maybe Azazel doesn’t have to tighten the leash around her as much as he had. That maybe, when this deal is a success, she’ll get to have more rights, gets to have her own car, gets to have a little freedom. Dean fully supports it.

Dean hands her the documents with a nod and she smiles at him. Her dad cocks an eyebrow while Benny frowns. They have no idea what’s going to hit them. Well, he doesn’t really know either, because she wouldn’t tell him, but he trusts her. 

Y/N rolls out the map of the city where she had circled warehouses they own in red circles. She stands up and braces her hands on the table, “As you can see, we own 120 warehouses and counting.”

“Did you know we own that much?” Azazel whispers to Dean behind her back and he shrugs. 

He did, Azazel doesn’t have to know it, though.

They sit in silence when Y/N continues, “My idea is to move production around. Never stay in one place for too long. That will be less suspicious for the neighborhood of the warehouses. That way, the chance of getting busted is as good as zero.” 

“But that’s a lot of moving infrastructure around.” Dick states.

“Would you rather you get busted?” Dean chimes in, he just had to, “When they get us, they’ll get you.”

“No, of course not.”

“Here’s my offer,” Y/N says and sits down, folds her arms on the table while she looks Zachariah straight in the eye, “120 warehouses to do as you please. Only seventy will be occupied at the same time, not more, not less. 50% of your profit.” 

They are all holding their breath as they watch Zach and Dick turn in their chairs to whisper something into each other's ears. Dean reaches over under the table again, squeezes her thighs and she looks at him, grins a cocky grin. Jesus, maybe he just fell in love a little more than he already had. 

Azazel leans back in his chair and over to his daughter, “You did your homework, princess. I’m proud.”

Her face beams.

It’s adorable really how she longs to be recognized. How she wished to be heard all those years. It’s really sad too, and there’s the thing Dean feels in his gut again that makes him nauseous. Makes him want to protect her at all cost and show her that she’s worth fucking everything. 

“Okay,” Zach says after clearing his throat, “Congratulations, Y/N, you got yourself a deal there. Our lawyers will be in contact.”

Her smile grows wide, and he can see that she’s all giddy. Dean really wants to take her into his arms but he knows that it’s uncalled for. That he shouldn’t act like he’s closer to her than what he is. 

Azazel nods his approval, smiling a little and it’s creepy. Dean had never seen the man smile before. 

“Great, onto the next part, the weapon deal, are you involved in that too?” Zach asks, and Dean knew that he missed something because he wasn’t involved either. 

“Nobody knows, because we just only talked about it briefly last time, Zach,” Azazel says. 

“Okay, then please everyone who’s not involved may leave the room.” Zachariah announces and Dean can only look at her. 

She has to leave and she knows it, even though he doesn’t want her to, but it’s not a made deal and she has no clue, she can’t stay, not when her dad is here, too. Subtly, she nods at him, as if she understands. 

“You can go to the club, Y/N, my treat!” Zach says, it’s more mockery than anything else and Dean really really wants to punch that fucking dude square in the face. 

  
  
  


*

  
  


The meeting is over quicker than he thought it would be. It’s just talks that bore him to death with weapon deals that aren’t even fixed yet. Dean really doesn’t know why she had to leave the room and he feels so fucking bad because he promised her that he’d be by her side. It’s a good thing that he had control over Dick and Zach, though. So at least they couldn’t have come on to her and touch her inappropriately. 

Everyone is making their way up the elevator, with Dick and Benny in deep conversation and Azazel and Zach. Apparently, Dick and Benny has some other issues to work through which Dean shouldn’t know about, but as hard as Dean tried to eavesdrop, he can’t make out a word because Zach was raving to Azazel about the casino and the strip club, inviting him to show him around because they have this new spa in the newly build wing where you can even gamble while relaxing. It’s ridiculous really. 

When they get out of the elevator, Azazel taps Dean on his shoulder, falls into step beside him, “Can you take my daughter home? I’ll probably stay the night and I don’t want her to wait and stay with me. I know she doesn’t like to be around them.” 

Dean knows who he means by them. So the little detail didn’t slip Azazel’s eyes and Dean’s actually quite glad that the man knows how uncomfortable the men are to his daughter.

“Of course,” Dean answers, has to fucking try not to show too much emotion. 

“Thanks,” The King nods, and places a hand on Dean’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze of approval. 

God, Dean doesn’t know if he’d still be thanking him if he knew that Dean’s already fucked his daughter not once but three times.

They make their way down the stairs to the club and already something seems off. The people are talking in hushed tones, the strippers aren’t stripping and the girls aren’t dancing.

Dean spots it then, spots her at the back, where Nick has pinned her against the wall, his hand around her throat. People around them watch in horror and Ed tries to talk Nick out of it, but the dude already lifts his hand and slaps her across the face. 


	13. Chapter.12

_ Fucking hell! _

Dean surges forward immediately, breaking into a run across the goddamn club without even thinking, leaving Azazel and Benny behind to catch up. He shoulders his way through bikini-clad girls, bumps into men getting up from their seats to see what all the commotion is about. He can see while he’s still fucking running, that she’s fighting back. Her hands are on Nick’s that are around her throat, and he sees her lifting her right leg, bends her knee, and rams it right into Nick’s fucking crotch. The man loses his balance for a short while, cups his crotch, and growls something Dean can’t make out.

_ Yes! _

_ That’s his fucking girl, alright. _

Pride surges through him, enabling him to run just a little faster. Also because he fears what Nick will do to her next if he’s not able to reach them fast enough. 

“Hey!” Dean shouts, but he doesn’t stop and manages to reach Nick just as he lifts his arm a second time to strike again. 

Grabbing Nick’s wrist, Dean twists the arm of the man behind his back. Twists some more, harder, just because he can. Twists so hard that the man shouts out in pain. Nick lets go of Y/N and her hand flies to her throat, clutching it tightly and gasping for air before she runs out of the club. 

He twists some more, hears bones breaking and Nick’s face contorts in pain.

Good. Just what he deserves.

“Ah, fuck! Stop! Fucking fuck! You fucking son of a bitch!” Nick shouts and tries to reach Dean’s hand on his wrist with his other hand, but Dean’s not letting him.

Meanwhile, all eyes are on them, and Azazel along with Benny finally catches up to them, standing just a couple of feet from where Dean pins Nick against the wall in the same spot the dude pinned Y/N moments before. Dean’s still fucking salty about that.

Dean leans close to Nick’s face, whispering into the man’s ears, “Strike two, Nick. Strike fucking two.”

He lets go of Nick to see the man clutching his wrist with his good hand, “Fuck! Ow, fucking fuck!” Nick shouts and curses, “You broke my fucking wrist! You fucking asshole!”

Azazel looks at Dean and nods. 

It makes Dean feel a little better to have the King’s blessings. It strangely calms his heart because if Azazel’s angry about him breaking his men’s wrists, Dean’s sure that he won’t live to see the morning.

The old man turns to Nick who’s still cursing and throwing profanities at Dean, “He fucking broke my wrist! Do something!”

Benny clubs Nick over the head and rolls his eyes at the dramatic shouting that comes out of Nick’s mouth. He looks to his other right-hand man and beckons him over, “Ed, take him away. Go get him patched up, we don’t want to cause a scene here.”

“You let him break my wrist?” Nick shouts in Azazel’s direction, probably hoping for sympathy. 

None of the sympathies Nick hoped for is forthcoming because the older man’s hand shoots out. He’s quick, Dean has to give him that, and grabs Nick around his throat while he pulls Nick close, so that his face is only inches from Nick’s, “What do you want me to do, Nick? You slapped my daughter. My only daughter. You have no fucking right to treat her like she’s your doormat. One more time, Nick, one more fucking time, and you’ll see what I’ll do to you. You think me treating you like a son in the past makes you one, don’t you? Well, not anymore, Nick. You fuck with my daughter, you fuck with me.” 

The old man spits his threat into Nick’s face in a low whisper and Dean has chills running down his spine. It’s the first time Dean sees him defending his own daughter. Maybe people change after all? Maybe after tonight, things will be good for Y/N? He doubts it, but he can hope.

_ You fuck with my daughter, you fuck with me _ . 

Dean is a little frightened now. He did fuck with the King’s daughter, in more ways than he should. It’s not that Dean’s going to stop, because he can’t walk away from her, even if someone held him at gunpoint. It’s more that it feels like a reminder for him to be more careful.

“Go find her. Let me know when you do.” Azazel jerks his head in Dean’s direction and Dean nods, breaking into a run, leaving Azazel to deal with Nick and the others.

He doesn’t really know where she could have gone. The only place he can think of is his car, so he shoulders his way through the casino crowds and runs out to the parking lot. In situations like this Dean’s really glad that he never uses valet parking.

On the way to his car, Dean finds her shoes, carelessly left behind. The first one in the entranceway, and the other one he finds outside by the steps. Dean picks them up and carries them with him as he hurries along the parked cars.

Dean hears her before he sees her. Hears the little hiccupy sound she makes, hears the little whimpers of sobs and he breaks into a run immediately. 

Y/N’s sitting on the ground, her back leaned against his car as she hugs her legs to her chest, her forehead resting on her knees. 

“Hey, shhh,” Dean crouches down beside her, hears his joint cracking as he lowers himself. 

Reaching into his jacket pocket when he’s beside her, he pushes the button of his car keys, and unlocks it, “C’mere, hold tight,” He says as he lifts her up and opens the car door, sitting her into the back seat and gets inside with her. 

Pulling her into his lap, she sits sideways, and Dean lets her cry into his shirt while he smoothes her hair back, “It’s okay, I’m here,” He whispers, knowing that it doesn’t actually mean a thing when he has broken his promise, but he’s fucking trying.

“You promised you wouldn’t leave my side!” She shouts and punches at his chest which she’s still crying into it. 

It doesn’t hurt. Dean wishes it would hurt more because he’d deserve it. 

“‘M sorry,” He mumbles and wraps his arms around her and pulls her close and kissing the crown of her head, “I didn’t have a choice.”

It sounds like a lame excuse. It feels like one too.

She moves her head up and buries it into the crook of his neck. Dean feels his skin getting wet, feels his collar soaking up her tears. He lets her, doesn’t say anything, lets her cry until there are no more tears left.

Her wailing sounds make way for hiccups, and Dean’s still here, still stroking her, letting her calm down in his lap.

Honestly, Dean knew he was going to a strip club. Had known for over a week, because the meeting had been set up for that long, but he honestly never thought that the girl ending up in his lap would be her. Never thought the girl ending up in his lap would be bawling her eyes out. Nonetheless, he thinks he’d rather have her than any of the strippers. 

Y/N nuzzles her face into his neck, smearing more wet tears against his skin and mumbles something he doesn’t catch right away so he asks, “What’s that?”

Peeling her face from his neck, it comes away sticky. She rubs at her nose and sniffs once more before she asks with a pout, “What happened to Nick?” It’s more mumbling than anything. He shouldn’t find it cute, but he does.

While her face is uncovered, Dean takes the opportunity and places one hand on her neck, the other cups her chin while he turns her head to where the streetlight shines through the tinted windows to examine it. 

There’s a big handprint showing on her cheek. It’s a little swollen too and he fucking knows that the swelling isn’t from her crying. He gets angry again, wishes that he had broken Nick’s face instead of his wrist. 

Dean feels weird, weird that it’s not him who marks her up because he likes that. Likes for everyone to know that she’s his but he would never mark her up in a hurtful way. His marks would leave hints and would be subtle. His marks would show that she belongs to him.

He brushes his fingertips across her cheeks, sees her flinch and he bites on his bottom lip because it hurts him too.

“I broke his wrist,” Dean mumbles, “Wish I’d broken his ugly mug, or his fucking spine.”

She starts to chuckle and his finger skid over her throat, seeing a bruise there too. 

Dean swallows, and asks with a little irritation, “What’s so funny?” 

Y/N’s still smirking, “You can’t break the spine of someone who doesn’t have one.”

He snorts out a laugh, and kisses her forehead, feeling her leaning into him. Leaving his lips on her skin, he mumbles, “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

Reluctantly, she sits upright and Dean reaches out, tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ear. She doesn’t look at him, instead, stares down. 

She swallows and sighs before she speaks, “I came down to the club and they were already sitting at a table. I thought I’d join them since I didn’t have anywhere else to go. As soon as the stripper on Nick’s lap saw me, she bolted,”

Ah, it must be the one from before. The one Y/N told to get lost. Dean frowns, though. That’s it? Nick hits a woman because she chased his stripper away? Before Dean can even ask she goes on.

“Nick was furious, so he harassed me. Pulling me into his lap and he touched me, kissed me. When I walked away he pinned me to the wall, and the rest, well, you know,”

_ Fucking Christ _ . Dean wants to shoot that fucker. He’s angry. So fucking mad. But he swallows it down, doesn’t want her to know that he’s barely holding his anger down. He guesses she feels it too because he’s shaking a little. 

He bottles up his anger as good as he can and clears his throat, “Where did he kiss you?”

She points her finger to her cheek, the one that hurts and Dean cups her face, tilts her head so he can place a soft kiss there. He wants to erase every traces of Nick off her skin.

“Anywhere else?” 

She points to the corner of her mouth and Dean feels that anger again. But he draws her close, kisses her there. 

“Where else?”

Chuckling, she points at her nose and that’s when Dean knows that it’s over. He’s fucking relieved that Nick didn’t kiss her full on the lips. He doesn’t even know where the relief comes from, why it feels so good inside of him, but it does. He grins when he cups her face and lowers it, craning his neck to place a kiss on the tip of her nose. 

Dean moves further up, “Here too?” He asks, but doesn’t wait for her answer, kisses her right between her eyebrows, where there are creases visible sometimes. 

“And here?” He whispers as he goes down again to place a kiss on her lips. They are pouty and swollen and still as delicious as he remembers. 

It’s then that he also remembers that Azazel wanted Dean to report back when he found the man’s daughter because his phone is vibrating and she jumps up a little.

“I think that’s definitely your phone in your pocket,” She grins and gets off him, sitting next to him and Dean fishes his phone out while he spreads his other arm to let her rest her head on his chest. 

Glancing at the caller ID, he sees that it’s Azazel. Immediately her tits flash in the back of Dean’s mind and he groans before he picks up, rolling his eyes because he hears her chuckling.

“Found her, sir. Sorry, I couldn’t call before. She was crying and I had to wait to make sure she’s okay first,”

He rubs up and down her back, as he listens to Azazel thanking him. 

“Will bring her home, sir,” 

There’s a punch in his ribs, “‘M hungry,”

Dean frowns down at her and she gestures for him to tell her dad. 

“Uh… Um, she just said she’s hungry — Yes sir, of course. I’ll see you tomorrow, good night, sir.” He hangs up and turns to her, but even before Dean can say anything, she pushes her skirt back and straddles him, her hand around her neck, fingers digging into the short strands of his hair as she presses her lips to his.

“Babe, I can’t take you anywhere,” He says between her spraying kisses all over his face and it’s hard even bringing these words out because actually, he’d take her anywhere she fucking wants. 

If Dean would say he doesn’t enjoy the kisses, he’d be flat out lying. 

She kisses his nose before sitting back up, “I know, not with Nick’s fingerprints all over my cheek,” 

That’s actually the least of his problems, Dean reckons, but she doesn’t need to know.

He brushes the tips of his fingers across the mark on her face, “Are you really hungry?”

“A little,” Y/N says, “But I mostly said it because I wanted a little more time before you really have to get me home.”

Ah, of course she did. That little minx.

Her fingers play with the buttons of his shirt and he leans his head back, enjoying the view of the girl on his lap.

“What did my Dad say?” She asks.

Dean groans because Azazel did really say something he never thought he’d hear out of the man’s mouth, “Said that whatever you want, you get.”

“Ah, I want some more time then.” 

“Get to the front,” Dean tells her, and she climbs off his lap and moves swiftly to the front seat. 

Turning around, she sees Dean watching her with wide eyes so she cocks an eyebrow. 

“Yeah,” He says, “I can definitely not do that.” Shaking his head, he gets out and walks around the car to get into the driver’s seat.

  
  


____________________________________________________

  
  
  


The drive back is spent in silence with Dean reaching out to touch her hand and her thighs. It’s like he can’t  _ not  _ touch her and check if she’s okay and she gets it. Feels the fucking same, actually. She threads her hand through his and looks out of the car window as streetlights fly by. His thumb circles on the back of the hand in soothing motions. It helps, it really does. The sting of Nick’s slap is almost gone, only the throbbing remains and she guesses that it’ll stay for some time. 

God, how could she have been so dumb and let a man hit her? How could she have been so dumb on going down there alone and let Nick have his hands all over her? What would have happened if Dean hadn’t had stopped him? She really wonders, if someone would have stopped it at all? Wonders, if at least her dad would have stepped up for her.

She’d never know if her dad would have stood up for her if it wasn’t for Dean. If it wasn’t for Dean, she wouldn’t have been at the meeting in the first place. Dean has made significant changes in the family since he got here. Her dad opens up to her more, involves her more and it seems like he cares for her more. 

Sometimes, she wonders who sent Dean. Wonders what his real intentions are because he’s so different from the men in the family. She can’t help but wonder how Bobby found him and brought him here. Wonders, how Dean could convince Bobby and her father to give him his job. It’s not an easy one to get, it requires a lot of trust, and he’s doing a good job, he’s just… different. If she’d have to put it into words, she’d say that he’s more humane, kinder. His moral compass is not jeopardized, which is a rare treat to find in their line of work.

Their line of work. Now she’s talking like them. Thinking with the same mindset as them. Because it’s her work now too, isn’t it? Y/N’s in the business now. It was she who cut the deal, it was she who convinced the Roman’s to cut a deal with them. 

_ Oh god _ , if something happens, she’ll be in the shit as deep as everyone else now. It’s like the reality of it all just hit her, and she should be frightened, she knows. She can be tried and prosecuted and she can end up dead if she isn’t careful, but strangely—

—she looks over to Dean, sees him smiling at her when he notices that she’s watching him, feels him squeezing her hand, feels the pad of his thumb circling on the back of her hand.

Strangely, things don’t scare her as much as they should.

  
  
  


*

  
  


Soon, familiar streets come back to view and she didn’t even tell Dean where he should take her. He just knows. 

He kills the engine and turns his face to her, “Only a couple of hours, okay? Gotta get you back before the house wakes up.”

She nods, and bites on her bottom lip, laughs when she sees him rolling his eyes and groaning before he gets out. 

Dean carries the shoes up for her because she’s busy threading her hands in his hair as he carries her up the last set of flights. Her skirt rides up, her feet hooked around his waist. And Dean’s breathing hard from all the stairs but he still kisses her, nibbles at her lips, it’s as if he can’t get enough of her and god,  _ same _ .

He has a hard time finding the keyhole with her attached to him, so he has to let her down. 

She laughs as she leans against the doorframe of the apartment, “You usually have no trouble finding holes, Dean.”

While he turns the knob he looks at her with one cocked eyebrow and opens his mouth in mockery, “Haha, very funny, ba-dum dum tssss,”

Y/N’s giggling as he jerks his head and opens the door wide for her to go in first. 

She doesn’t have time to calm her giggles before Dean pins her to the wall next to the door after he closes it and kisses her deep and hard, making it extra rough to effectively shut her up and it works because he’s taking her breath away, drinking it up and swallows it down.

Her hand goes to the buttons of his shirt, and Dean shrugs off his jacket, letting it fall loudly to the floor. It probably contained his keys, his phone, his…  _ oh god _ , his hands are around her face, kisses her cheek soft and tender, is careful not to hurt where her heartbeat is still pulsing through the surface of her skin. 

“Baby, you sure you want it? You’re probably still sore, we can st—”

“—I’m sure, please,” 

Dean kisses her, his hand cups her chin, tilts it up for her to look at him, and she’s working on his belt, having managed to strip him of his shirt, “You have to tell me when it hurts.” 

The belt clanks loudly, and she nods at him while her fingers work on the zipper, pulling it down and Dean bends lower, claims her mouth as she pulls his hard cock out of his underwear.

He feels hard and heavy in her hand, the tip is leaking and she massages at his lengths as he groans into her mouth. His hand goes to her ass, pulls her closer to him and he smacks down onto it. It stings through the leather skirt, but not as much as Nick’s slap from hours before. 

With a last tug to her bottom lip, Dean turns her around and they’re still standing by the door. She braces her hands on the wall, lays her hot cheek onto the cool surface. It feels great, she welcomes the cool.

His hands find the seam of her skirt, bunches it up so it’s around her waist. Y/N arches her back, pushes her ass out and Dean’s fingers find her pussy, threads through the slick there. It’s plenty wet from her juice and his cum from a couple of hours before. 

“Jesus, fuck!” He groans out, nuzzling his mouth into her neck, mumbling something against her skin. The vibrations of his voice, paired with his fingers that thread gently through her wet folds is making her shiver, “I want you so bad, can I?” 

“Y—yeah,” She breathes out, her mind is clouded, she can’t think straight but she knows. She fucking knows that she wants him just as bad, if not more. 

The feeling is alien to her. Being so desperate for someone is alien to her. She’s never felt it before, never wanted someone more than she wants Dean. Even though she is sore, he was right about that, she still craves more. Would gladly let him hurt her in the best ways. 

The hand that glides through her slick leaves her, and there’s a whimper she lets out.

“I got you, baby. I got you,” He whispers between pants, and she can’t see but she hears him fisting his cock, and then she feels it, feels him thread through her wetness with the tip of it. 

Arching her back some more, with her hands still braced on the wall, she grants him better access and Dean slides in, groaning as he goes. She has to bite down on her lip, moaning too, when she feels him filling her up. 

Dean picks up a slow and steady rhythm, thrusting into her shallowly at first, getting deeper with every third thrust. He braces his hands on hers, threads his fingers through hers as he kisses and sucks at her throat.

“Is that okay, huh?” He whispers before he sucks at her earlobe.

There’s something highly erotic about the position they’re in. She’s never fucked standing up before, never fucked someone while they pin her against the wall with both of them still half-dressed. 

“Uh-huh,” She nods her head, arching her back because she wants to feel him more, chokes out a whisper, “Deeper, Dean fuck me deeper,”

There’s a low growl next to her ear and as he repositions himself, takes one hand from the wall and wraps it around her waist to pull her closer so he can fuck up into her in a deep angle. 

“Like that, huh?” 

“Oh god, yeah, just like that,” Y/N breathes out, leaning her head back against his shoulder.

“Fuck, your pussy feels so fucking good,” Dean says and kisses the back of her head. She moves her hips a little now, tries to push back when he pushes forward and he lets out another growl, “Yeah, just like that, baby,”

His hand around her waist skims down her body, fingers starting to rub at her folds and she places one hand back and around his neck while he kisses and sucks at her cheek. He still has one hand pinning her at the wall. The position they’re in is not really comfortable but fucking amazing. 

“Is that okay?” He asks, breathes out against her skin while he rubs at her clit as he fucks her deep.

“Softer, ah, softer,” She cranes her neck, tilts her head back, and Dean molds his lips to hers, kissing her as deep as he fucks her. 

He listens, and starts to rub her soft and gentle, “Softer?”

“Yeah,”

“‘S that okay?” He breathes against her lips and she swallows, can only nod her approval because him touching her, makes her almost lose it.

“Fuck,” Dean growls, “Your pussy’s getting wetter,” He kisses her jawline, noses at her the shell of her ear, “Come for me, baby. I want to feel you gush around me,” 

His finger flickers at her clit, and fuck, he’s starting to shake so that Dean has to let go of her hand on the wall to hold her steady. 

“Dean—,”

“I’m here, fuck,” 

There’s a loud groan when her pussy clamps down around his dick as her first orgasm of this session washes over her. It makes her shudder and pushes his dick right out with new wetness that’s now running down her thighs and legs. 

Dean immediately sinks down to his knees and pushes her upper body back against the wall before he makes her lift one leg to drape it on his shoulder. He starts to nose against her clit and she threads a hand through the thick of his hair when she feels the tip of his tongue licking at her juices down there. 

She’s sure that it’s quite messy, with his cum from previously finding their way out as well, but Dean doesn’t seem to mind, eats her out like she’s the best thing he’s ever had. God, it feels incredible. 

He’s careful not to let his scruff touch her, doesn’t bury his face right in there like he did earlier but it’s enough for her to lose herself in the feeling, enough that she comes again on his face with an unexpected orgasm. 

She’s still shuddering when Dean gets back on his feet and smiles at her, his face is glistening. He picks her up, molds his wet lips to hers and she tastes their combined scent in his mouth. It turns her own more than it disgusts her, which is totally new to her as well.

Dean carries them into his bedroom, drops her off with a squeal, and starts to undress. She does the same, gets rid of her blouse, and zips down her skirt. He’s finished before her. She wonders how that’s possible but she can’t dwell on it because Dean’s hands are pulling at her skirt, helping her get rid of it.

He strips the cover from the bed and lays himself in it, his head resting on a pillow, his dick still wet, the tip of it an angry shade of red and leaking. 

_ God _ , it’s a delicious view, she can’t lie about that.

“C’mere,” He beckons her with a wiggle of his fingers, “I want you to ride me, that way you’re in control and you can stop when it hurts too much,”

The level of Dean’s consideration is astounding and she smiles as she crawls to him on all fours. 

She kisses him first, his hands find her face, fingers span wide, tips curling into her hair. One of her hands finds his dick, wraps it around the thick of him before she starts to jerk him off. Dean moans into the kiss, his body twitches up, hips moving, fucking himself on her hand subconsciously. 

Her grip’s tight around his throbbing cock and she twists her wet hand at the tip, making him moan into her mouth and biting down onto her bottom lip. 

“Fuck, baby, if you keep doing that, I’ll blow too soon,” He pants against her mouth and she swallows the desperate tone in his voice, swallows the little hitched whimpers, “Hop on, I wanna feel your pussy around my dick,”

The way he says it makes the word sound dirtier than they are. Perhaps it’s the gravel of his voice, maybe it’s the honey-coated sing-song of his plea. Either way, she can’t wait either, so she parts with a last suck to his tongue, making him groan out and moves further down to straddle him.

He watches her point his cock up to her pussy, watches the head of his dick breach her cunt, watches her, as she sits down slowly, impaling herself on him. She throws her head back at the feeling, at the sensation of being full of him. 

When she looks again, Dean’s eyes are on her. He licks his lips as he watches her move up and down his shaft. One of his hands goes to her throat, fingers touching the bruise left behind by Nick. His other hand is firm around her hips, tips digging into her flesh as he helps her, guides her. 

“Just like that, fuck,” He whispers low, letting his hand trail down to her tit from her throat, fingers pinching and rolling around her nipple. She arches her back at that and subsequently taking him deeper, “Fuck,”

Y/N can’t keep her pace for long, it’s been a long day after all and she feels it, feels the strain of the day. Feels that her body is going to give out any time soon so she retorts to grinding on his cock. Dean’s pubic hair isn’t pricky, it feels soft against her clit, giving her enough stimulation. 

Her hands are now braced on his chest as she gyrates her hips above him and Dean’s hips twitch underneath, she can feel it. 

“Yeah,” He whispers, “Just like that, grind on my cock,” 

Him talking like that is really something else. She loves it and she grinds a little harder, as hard as she dares to and Dean’s breathing gets more ragged. At one point, Dean’s lying there, his arms splayed on his side and watches her, seemingly enjoying the view and she’s not used to being watched so intensely, but strangely, with him, she doesn’t mind.

“I’m gonna come if you keep that up,”

“Uh-huh,” She pants, “Me, too.”

“Good,” Dean swallows, “Good girl, come with me, ‘k?”

“Uh-huh,”

Closing her eyes, she works herself up to that edge. 

“I’m gonna count back, so you know,” His voice is strained, he’s so close, she can feel that he’s only holding back because he wants her to come at the same time. 

“Yeah,”

“Good, good girl, five,”

She grinds down on him a little harder.

“Ah, four,”

Both his hands are on her hips, holding her tighter.

“Three, baby,”

Fuck, she’s so close. She increases her pace some more.

“Two, Jesus goddammit,”

He growls and groans, mutters some more profanities as he’s shaking below her.

“Dean, fuck,” 

“One,” 

He bucks his hips, and at the changed angle, she comes instantly, her head feels heavy, her limbs are unresponsive.

All she feels is Dean pulling her down to him, feels him crashing his lips onto hers, feels him twitching and shaking as he wraps his strong arms around her body. 

  
  
  


____________________________________________________

  
  
  


Dean gets torn from his blissed out state when the alarm he set rings. It’s a precaution to get them home on time so as not to raise too much suspicion. 

She stirs in his arms, looks up at him groggily and he has to grin at all the cuteness that’s thrown at him. 

After the mind-blowing sex — there’s really no other word for that, he carried her into the shower, washing themselves from the sweat and cum. He dried her off and walked her back to the bed, tucks her in before he set the alarm. He walked out again to grab a pack of frozen beans and wraps it in a cloth, and climbed into bed with her to press the makeshift ice pack to her cheek. She eagerly cozied herself up into his open arm after the initial jerk of her head because of the cold, but she lets him kiss her hair and stroke her back. And he thought that it was nice. It was awesome and he couldn’t stop himself from thinking how it’d be if they really had a night to themselves. If they would really get to wake up next to each other. 

They get dressed again and now they’re on their way back home. 

  
  
  


*

  
  


The house is silent and from the looks of cars in the garage, he can see that Azazel is indeed not home. 

They walk up to their rooms in silence, with Dean carrying her suitcase and his duffel, until they arrive at her door. 

She goes in, pulling him in with her, and Dean’s weak because he has no strength left in him to just leave. Not that he wants to anyway. 

Dropping off their things, he stands back up and she comes around, weaves her arms around his neck, and kisses his cheek. It’s so soft it really pains him. 

“Are you staying?” She asks and there’s that glint of hope in her eyes that he has no will to fight against. 

Dean thinks, calculating things in his head, shrugs to himself.

Y/N chuckles, “What are you doing?”

His lips spread into a grin, “I’m calculating the drop from your room to the yard. I think I can manage that in the morning.”

She laughs, it’s a beautiful sound and Dean leans down, kisses her sweet lips. 

He watches as she undresses and slips into her bed and she cocks an eyebrow at him because the only thing he got rid of are his shoes and jacket. She doesn’t ask any questions, though, and that’s what he likes about her. It’s because she understands. She understands that he can’t let himself be really him around here, that he has to always have a backup plan for when things go wrong. 

Nonetheless, she lets him spoon her from behind and Dean breathes in her scent. She smells like him now because they used his body wash. It does things to him, it makes his dick throb and his heart melt. There’s something highly erotic about a girl who smells like him. Especially  _ this  _ girl.

  
  
  


*

  
  


He wakes up at the first vibration of his phone on her nightstand and pushes himself up and away to pick up. 

“‘Lo,” He whispers, as he walks into her walk-in closet so as not to wake her up. Looking back, he sees that she’s stirred, sees that she’s chasing after the warmth he left behind.

“We are waiting for your report, where are you?”

_ Shit _ . He forgot about that. 

“Can’t make it out that far,” Dean whispers, “Meet me halfway?”

“We’re already on our way to the mansion, wanted to check on you,”

_ Fuck _ , them turning up here is not what he fucking needs right now.

“Wait at the bridge. I’ll be there in fifteen.”


	14. Chapter.13

Dean’s driving fast. He kind of has to if he wants to get there on time. It didn’t help that he had to run three-hundred yards out of the Lehne’s backyard and through a hole in the fence to get to his Baby that he had safely tucked there in case he needed it for cases like this one, where he can’t safely take the family’s car so as not to get fucking caught when they see it missing in the middle of the night where he should get her home safely. 

He gnaws on his bottom lip as he navigates the almost empty streets. Everyone’s still sleeping, so is she, so should he be.

The thought of him having to leave her in her bed while she’s still sound asleep doesn’t sit right with him. Not only because he absolutely loves the calmness in her when she’s sleeping, not only because he can’t get enough of the murmurs of her, the little hitch in her breath when she’s dreaming. No. It’s also because he absolutely hates the thought of her waking up and he’s not there like he said he would be. He hates to break promises, especially to her. But he also fucking knows that it’s not going to be the first promise he breaks and it’s certainly not going to be his last. 

The guilt sits heavy in his heart as he drives towards the meeting point. It weighs him down, making him second guess every little move he’s made until now. Wonders if he did the right thing and comes to the conclusion that he didn’t. He jeopardized this whole fucking thing and that’s because of her. 

His boss would say that he’s risking everything for a pussy. 

That’s not entirely true. 

Dean thinks he’s risking everything for _her_ pussy. Which is a big difference.

But what’s more important is that he risks everything for her happiness and _that_ is worth a huge amount in his books.

He rounds up a corner, parks right under the bridge next to a big dark van — and he waits. 

After a couple of minutes, the door to the van opens and Naomi comes out, dressed in knee-high boots and a short dress in a tacky color, a mismatched fur coat draped over it. Dean snorts out a laugh.

The door to his car opens and Naomi gets in, grunting as she sits down. 

Dean cocks his eyebrows as he watches her settling into his car, “How much for a blow job, boss? I don’t think I have that much cash with me. You look like a high-end prostitute.” 

“Shut up!” The woman next to him hisses. 

“Why the costume?” He asks, and adds, “Let me tell you, the dress doesn’t match your coat at all.”

She looks at him like she’s annoyed, which he guesses she is, but he just can’t hold himself back, “We’ve never met here. Thought I should go undercover so it’d seem like you’re just looking like a guy who wants a quick fuck.”

“Oh, come on!” Dean groans out, “No offense, but I don’t need to get a hooker, at least you know, not—”

“—Yeah, yeah, I’m too old, blah, let’s get this over with, okay?” Naomi waves him off, “Tell me, how did that deal go?”

She’s talking about the deal with the Roman’s. Dean had sent them the intel about what’s going on because it’s his fucking job. Sometimes, though, he doesn’t know what his real job is and what his fake job is anymore. Sometimes, they just blend into each other and he wants to try to keep both sides happy, which is really ridiculous if not damn near impossible.

“Good, they are going to do it. The daughter suggested a great deal that they couldn’t _not_ take.” 

“She did?” Naomi huffs out, and there’s a moment of silence. Dean knows that she’s thinking about something. Probably something stupid that he has to execute. With her next breath, she asks, “Y/N, right? That’s her name?”

It feels weird to him that someone else says her name. Someone who wants bad things to happen to her. It rubs him the wrong way, and he gets worked up over it — which again, is super ridiculous of him. But it’s just not right for Naomi to say her name. Dean avoids her name towards them at all cost, only saying _princess_ or _the daughter_ because he doesn’t want to drag her name into this mess, and it’s weird that Naomi just straight out calls her by her name.

“Yeah, Azazel wants her in the business,” Dean sighs loudly. He didn’t want to sigh, but he did subconsciously, “She’s doing a great job.”

“It also means that she’s not innocent anymore now, is she?”

Well, that’s just fucking peachy because she’s indeed not anymore. She’s in deep, so fucking deep, and he can’t even pretend that he doesn’t know about it. Can’t even say that even though she’s in the business, she’s just doing it to please her father. That she’s just doing it because they get to spend some time together. At least Dean thinks she does it because of him too, and he was so foolish to let her, even went so far as to talk her father into it. So really, her being in this shit neck deep is because of him. He’s a greedy selfish bastard, he knows that now, and there’s no way for him to unknow this fact. She’s going to kill him once she finds out.

_Fucking asshole_ , Dean thinks, _you really fucking thought with your dick and not with your head._

Naomi nods her head, doesn’t say anything for a while. The silence is deafening. 

Just when Dean thinks she wants him to say something, the woman speaks again, “What did she suggest and when will it happen?”

“She offered them 120 warehouses for rent so they can move their equipment around without getting busted,” He shrugs, “I don’t know when it’ll be, we’re waiting on hearing from their lawyers,”

“Uh-huh,” Naomi nods, as she registers what Dean just said, “She’s a clever young lady. Did she come up with the plan on her own? She stood up to the men, huh?” The woman asks, and Dean thinks it comes off a little... fond? He doesn’t know, can never read his boss, but _fondness_ is not something he thought he would ever hear out of her tone of voice.

“She showed them who’s boss, yeah. And of course she thought about it on her own,” Dean says with that little tad of annoyance in his voice. _She’s not dumb_ , he wants to add, but decided against it.

He doesn’t know what came over him to make him so annoyed. Maybe he’s pissed that Naomi sounds like she’s fond of Y/N. Perhaps, it’s because he doesn’t want Naomi to get a weird idea and pull her into this with him and make her out to be a snitch in her family's eyes. It’s enough that he is one. He doesn’t want Naomi to recruit insiders. And most of all, he doesn’t want Naomi to recruit Y/N. It wouldn’t be the first time that Dean has to recruit someone, but it sure as hell won’t be her.

“You okay with us blowing things up?”

He wonders if it’s a trick question? Like, why shouldn’t he be okay with it? Because Y/N is in neck deep? Well, that’s a great argument, if not one of the best in Dean’s eyes, but not one that would sustain. 

Dean snorts, “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because your body language says it all, Dean. As soon as you mention her there’s something in the way you hesitate, the way you talk. Is there something we need to know?”

Is he so easy to read? What is it with this woman? He normally isn’t. He reminds himself to be more like Naomi.

“Nah,” Dean shakes his head, tries to sound relaxed, “Listen, you said Bobby was poisoned, right?” 

He tries to avert the conversation to something else, something that’s more important than Y/N. At least something more important in Naomi’s eyes. 

“Yeah?”

“I think someone’s trying to poison Azazel,”

The woman’s eyebrow rises on her forehead, “How do you know?”

“He’s not doing good. He’s lost weight, he has stomach pains, on more than one occasion he toppled over and he feels dizzy quite a lot. I have an idea who it could be, but I need your help.” 

There are creases on Naomi’s forehead, “Help you how?”

“Can you get me some cameras? I wanna set them up.”

The woman nods, “Okay, I’ll get them,”

Dean looks over to Naomi, the crease in his forehead growing, “Oh, and have you heard about Benny’s involvement with Marv? Have you found the kids?”

It has been nagging at his conscious for some time not knowing where the kids were. Not knowing if they’re okay.

“Benny apparently turned down an offer from Marv. Apparently he’s in talks with someone else, but we’ve yet to find out who it is. About the kids,” The woman exhales loudly, “They’ve disappeared from our radar, Dean, I’m sorry.”

“Fuck,” Dean mutters under his breath and places his forehead on the steering wheel. 

“You can’t save everyone, Dean, you of all people should know that,” Naomi says and gets out of his car.

Yeah, he fucking knows, alright? It’s just… it doesn’t make it any less easy for him to know it.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


After their talk, Naomi disappears into the van only to reappear with the cameras that she had promised Dean. She leans against the window, drops them onto his passenger’s seat, and lingers there a little too long for Dean’s liking.

Dean flips his wrist, takes a look, and sees that it’s way past 3.30 AM. If he hurries, he can still slip into her room, and can still get under the warm covers for a couple of hours before the whole house wakes up. It’s the only thing that he wants right now. 

He wishes that the woman would finally say her goodbyes, but instead of the formal bid adieu, Naomi clears her throat and speaks, “You shouldn’t risk the operation for a pussy, Dean,”

Well, how did he know that she’d say that?

Dean wants to tell his boss off, wants to tell her that Y/N’s not just another pussy. That she’s a real girl with real feelings. That she didn’t choose to be born into this life, yet she tries to make the best out of it. That she wants to get out as much as Dean wants to help her get out—

—But instead, Dean only shakes his head and chuckles darkly, “I won’t,”

It’s a lie and they both know it, yet they both accept it. 

It’s actually weird how the tables have turned. Naomi knows that she could pull Dean off this whole fucking case anytime, yet she doesn’t. Because she knows exactly that Dean could (and probably would, now with her in the picture) run off to the other side, and he’s fucking good at what he does, Naomi knows that too. It’s probably best not to have Dean as an enemy. 

Naomi raps on the hood of the car before Dean takes off, driving away, leaving his hooker boss behind.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


The house is still dead silent and Dean checks the garage for Azazel’s car, which thankfully is still not there, before he makes his way to his room, dropping off the cameras into this closet and tiptoes his way back to her door. 

Taking a look around, he makes sure that the coast is clear before he turns the knob and slips in, closing the door silently behind him.

Dean walks to her bed, takes his time, and steals a look, watching her in her sleep. He feels relief that she didn’t wake up when he was away. 

Taking off his shoes and shrugging off his jacket, he lifts the covers, and gets in. The warmth is welcoming and he moves closer, feels the need to connect. She only stirs once, mumbling something that sounds awfully like _Dean?_ but is quick to nuzzle her head into the crook of his neck as he lifts her a little to let her crawl into his arm. He strokes her hair back, kisses her forehead, smiles a little at the fact that she thinks of him in her sleep. His heart picks up speed, is doing fucking summersaults at the now familiar feeling of her warm body next to his, thinks that he can get used to it, thinks that he _wants_ to get used to it. 

“Yeah, I’m here,” He whispers, kisses the crown of her hair, breathes in the scent of himself on her, “Sleep, okay?”

“‘K,” She mumbles against his neck, her warm breath fans over his throat. 

  
  
  


____________________________________________________

  
  
  


Y/N wakes up to hushed whispers. She blinks, thinking that she’s hearing things. Sleep and exhaustion still linger in her every bone and her body feels heavy. Her cheek throbs. There’s pulsing underneath her skin.

“Hey,” 

There it is again, the whisper. And then she feels it, feels the rumbling beneath her ear. She has her head on Dean’s chest. That’s why it feels so hard and unfamiliar. Not like the soft pillows she’s used to. Not that she would trade it now. 

“Baby, wake up,” His voice is a soft hush, it vibrates in his chest nonetheless. 

Moving her head, she looks up, but she rests her chin on his chest while she squints her eyes that are still full of fatigue. It’s way too fucking early. 

Dean chuckles, making the firmness shake underneath her face. He’s grinning, the crinkles showing and all, almost blinding her with his bright and cheery face. He looks so good, it feels like she’s staring into the sun, “You awake?”

“No?” She mumbles, closes her eyes again and his hand comes up, smoothes her hair back. 

Oh god, she must look hideous, but it’s too early to even care.

“Babe, I have to go,” He moves, and she stirs awake once more.

“Noooooooo,” She groans out, but rolls off him anyway so that he can get up, “What time is it?” She rolls herself into a cocoon of the blanket and pulls it up to her nose. 

“Seven,” He shimmies himself a little further down, nuzzles his nose into her hair, places a gentle kiss there, “Gotta go before the whole house wakes up and thought it’s better to wake you than leave without a word. That way you can’t be mad at me, alright?”

“I’m still mad,” She pouts into the blanket and Dean pulls it down to rest underneath her chin, chuckling softly as he does.

“For what?” 

“Waking me up,” 

She hears him chuckle some more, feels him kissing along her cheek, the one that doesn’t hurt, “I can live with that.”

He can live with her being mad at him for waking her up, but not with her being mad at him for sneaking away without telling her? Is he for real? She wonders sometimes why Dean cares so much. Why does he even bother? She knows that there are good people in the world, but she never thought that she’d have one living under the same roof. Not that she’s not thankful, but she wonders about Dean’s motives sometimes. It’s good what they have, but it’s sad not knowing where it will go. 

Dean kisses her forehead and pushes himself up. She rolls on her side, watches him as he puts on his jacket and shoes before he grabs his duffel. Dean leans over again, kisses her nose, “I’ll see you at breakfast, okay?”

Y/N yawns and nods her head. 

Grinning, he nods, and with a last brush of his fingertips along her jaw, he walks over to the door that opens up to her balcony.

She starts to frown, “What are you doing?” She hisses, and sits up a little, but Dean already steps out onto the deck and throws his duffel over the railing. It lands with a thud on the grass. 

Climbing over the railing, he clutches at it before he looks at her and smiles. With a wink, he lets himself fall and she’s out of the bed quickly, runs up to see if he made it. 

Images of Dean with broken bones flash in front of her eyes as she runs. Because that would be awfully bad. There’s no fucking good way to spin a good story of how Dean ended up with broken bones right below her balcony.

Looking down, she sees him smiling up and waving. 

_God_ , she almost shit herself and he’s fucking smiling! 

She’s mad now, alright? But for other reasons than waking her up. How fucking stupid of him to fling himself off the fucking balcony. Fucking Dean, seriously. 

And then the audacity of him looking up at her with that boyish grin and charming smile… even if she wants to be mad at him, she knows she just can’t. Instead, she rolls her eyes at him, for the dramatic effect, and watches him walk to the front to get back into the house. 

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


After waking up properly and taking a shower, Y/N walks into the dining room. She’s surprised to find Bela there, sipping her coffee while she thumbs through her phone. On the other side of Bela is Dean and Dad sits at his usual place. Dean’s changed into a new suit, she can see. Navy blue today, it still looks like it’s been sewn onto his body and she wants to have him as breakfast. He notices her, looks up and grins, crinkles and dimples and all, before he lowers his head, shaking it as he goes on and looks at the paper spread out in front of him.

Benny, Ed, and a couple of the boys are sitting there as well while they eat their breakfast. There’s no sign of Nick, though, and she’s glad. 

She’s not so glad that everyone’s looking up at her, even though she tries to move as silently as possible. 

Walking in further, Bela takes a good look at her and the woman chokes on her coffee, “My god, Y/N, what happened to your face?”

Ah, there it is.

As soon as Bela said those words in a high pitched voice, everyone looked away, except Dean. He’s looking at her with a pained expression on his face and their eyes meet for a brief second. Dean catches himself pretty quickly, though, and goes on with his task, rearranging loose papers that just got here from the courier. 

“Ah, it’s nothing,” She says, and waves Bela off, “Nick’s an asshole, is all. Where is he anyway?”

It’s not like she cares, but she asks anyway, out of curiosity because she’d like to avoid him if possible.

“Nick’s taking a couple of days off,” Her dad says dryly and empties his cup of coffee, “At least until his wrist is healed.”

Dean snorts out a chuckle and she thinks he doesn’t even notice it until the room goes silent and all eyes are on him. He looks around and she sees her father eyeing him, but instead of shooting him down with a glare, her father chuckles with him. 

Wow, that’s like a new power dynamic she never thought she’d see. Maybe her father accepts him now? Would he accept her being with him too? She can only hope.

Her father is about to ring the bell that sits next to him to signal for the maid to come in because he’s probably desperate for another cup of coffee, when Bela gets up suddenly, “Let me get you a new cup, Azazel,” The woman is out before Y/N can even tell her that she too, would very much love to have a cup of coffee. 

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Her father asks.

She thinks it’s unusual. He never asks. Their interaction in the mornings is basically non-existent.

“I guess,” She shrugs, “It still hurts,” 

Of course it does. It would be weird if it didn’t hurt. Nick’s handprint is still visible on her skin. 

Her father nods, “Do you think it’ll be gone by next week?”

She frowns at that, wondering why he asks about an exact timeline, “Why? I mean, I’m pretty sure it will, but there’s still makeup I can use to cover up.”

“Your birthday’s coming up. I’m organizing something,” Her dad says, and sends her a small smile. Something she rarely sees. It’s creeping her out more than it calms her. Smiling is not his strong suit and honestly, no offense, but he should do less of it.

Dean’s head shoots up from his paperwork, and there’s also a little frown, which makes her think that Dean doesn’t know about her dad’s plans for her birthday. She doesn’t even know if he knows that her birthday’s coming up. They didn’t talk about it. She doesn’t know when his birthday is. She doesn’t know anything about him. All she knows is that he cares, and he treats her like someone equal to him, and that matters a lot, if it isn’t even the only thing that matters. 

“What is it?” She asks curiously, wondering what her father plans for her.

Her birthdays are always dull. She could never invite anyone to her party when she was younger. Not that they want to attend, it’s just… people talked at school. They talked about what her father is, about what she is. They talked so much that dad pulled her out to be homeschooled, and with that, her isolation started.

“I’ll let you know soon enough,” Her dad says and Bela appears with a cup of coffee for him, and to her surprise, her friend also brought out a coffee for her. 

“Thanks, Bela,” Y/N smiles, and she’s about to take a sip when Dean stands up abruptly, his chair screeching along the marble flooring. 

All eyes are on Dean. 

“Uh, sorry,” He mumbles and flips his wrist to take a look, “We have a conference call in five minutes,” Quickly, he gathers his things and walks to the door. Dean stalls and looks back, “Y/N, you coming?”

What? No one told her about the meeting? She _just_ got up and she hasn’t even had coffee yet. This is ridiculous! She looks from Dean to her dad and then to her coffee while Dean still waits for her.

“But, I haven’t had my coffee yet,” It might have come out a little whiny, but she really doesn’t care.

Her father jerks his head towards the open door where Dean’s still patiently waiting, although now with a frown on his face, “Go, Y/N, business is more important than coffee.” 

Letting her shoulders drop, she sighs in defeat and nods her head. She stands up and it takes everything in her not to roll her eyes at her dad or at Dean. It takes everything in her not to act like a fucking spoiled princess.

Dean walks swiftly ahead when he sees that she’s moving her ass, and she almost has to run to keep up. Once arriving in front of his office, he waits for her to catch up before opening the door for her.

“What’s so important that I can not even drink a drop of fucking coffee, huh?”

He closes the door and walks over to drop the files on his desk, restarting his laptop as he sits down, “Jesus, Y/N, don’t act so fucking spoiled, alright?” He shouts out and rubs a hand over his face. 

Dean looks a little mad. Why is he mad?

His outburst takes her by surprise. Dean has never shouted at her before. 

Y/N does her best to swallow down the irritation, does her best to swallow down the tears that wells up. It is very silly of her to get teary, because she should not be so emotional about it. So what? Someone scolds her and she wants to cry. How old is she? Fucking two? She catches herself, sits up a little straighter, and clears her throat, “Fine. Let’s get this over with,”

He cocks an eyebrow, eying her up and down as she sits down, the expression on his face softens, “I’m sorry I’m being loud. You’re mad at me,”

“‘M not,”

“Yeah,” Dean snorts, “You are,”

“I’m not. I’m just really sick of people telling me how fucking spoiled I am when I’m just being a reasonable amount of whiny on a morning. And I have every right to be whiny considering that I was slapped in the face last night. Besides, nobody told me about a conference call, so, yeah, I might be a little spoiled because I did not get a warning beforehand and I just wanted to indulge in my morning coffee in fucking peace. Maybe next time you could mail me the fucking schedule!” She crosses her arms over her chest, leans deeper into the chair and pouts.

The eyebrow on Dean’s face is still cocked, but his lips part a little, curving up too. How fucking dare he. He’s fucking smirking. 

“You’re cute, you know that?” He says and leans back in his chair, “It takes a lot of self control to not just fucking pick you up and kiss myself stupid on you. Especially that damn pout of yours. I want to kiss that away.”

“Shut up,” She mumbles and pouts a little harder, just for fucking good measure, “Shouldn’t we be calling people? I mean, what’s it about anyway, you didn’t brief me.”

Dean types in his password on the laptop and clicks some things before he looks at her, “There’s no conference call.”

“What?”

Oh, if she wasn’t mad before she definitely is now. What does that mean? Why didn’t he let her be? He had to go all authority on her ass to move it in here when there’s no fucking call?

“Shhhh,” He hushes her and gets up from his chair, walks around to take her hand, and disappears with her to the back of his office where there's a little corner surrounded by bookshelves.

“Dean, what is it?” She takes her hand out of his grip and hisses loudly.

He lowers his face, places a hand on the back of her neck, and looks her in the eye. Dean seems to be exceptionally calm. When he speaks, he does it in a low whisper, no raising his voice and he looks at her with his intense gaze, as if he wants her to understand what he’s saying next, “I don’t want you drinking anything in his fucking house that you haven’t prepared yourself, is that clear?” 

“What? Why?”

Dean sighs, rubs a hand over his face again, as if he’s contemplating what to tell her, “‘K,” He says, and nods. She doesn’t know if he’s talking to her or to himself, probably the latter. 

She waits a little, doesn’t say a word until he continues, “Bobby’s been poisoned, that’s why he quit,”

“What? Oh my god, but seriously, what?” 

What does that mean? She doesn’t get it. Bobby’s been poisoned? Why is this the first time she hears of it?

“Nobody knows, so it would be great if you could keep it to yourself, for now, you understand?” His hand moves from the back of her neck to her shoulder, brushes a strand of hair out of the way.

“How do you know then?” she asks him and she’s probably frowning because she can feel the crease on her forehead. How can she not be frowning, though? This is fucked up!

Dean licks his lips and there’s a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, even though he should not be smirking, but she knows that he probably thinks her being in this state is cute. He’s a weirdo. But an adorable one. And she should not get weak, but she does. 

His hand comes up to thumb at that frown, and there’s definitely a little smirk when he speaks, “Bobby told me,”

That would make sense, right? Bobby told him because he should take over? Bobby taught Dean everything he needs to know for the job, so maybe they had some bonding time where Bobby confessed to Dean that he’d been poisoned? Maybe Dean has to help Bobby find out who it is? She’s almost 100% positive that that’s the case, since she still wonders how an outsider like Dean got the job instead of Nick. Bobby doesn’t trust Nick, never liked that guy, and only helped Nick on the orders of her dad. Oh god, maybe it’s Nick? Perhaps he wanted Bobby out of the way in order to get the job?

This is even more fucked up than she initially thought. It irritates the fuck out of her.

She crosses her arms over her chest and frowns some more, Dean’s having a hard time to even out the creases, “And you think it’s someone I know?”

He nods before he sighs, because yeah, the frown won’t disappear and he gives up. His hands are coming up to rub at her arms instead, “Someone who has access to the house,”

“Does my dad know? Does Bela know?”

“No,” Dean shakes his head, “And it would be better if they don’t. Not until I find out who it is.” His hand cups her chin, tilts her face upwards, “Can you keep it a secret, huh? Do it for me?” He presses his lips together, does some kind of pouting, and widens his eyes. 

She starts to chuckle, “You’re so bad at that,” 

“What?” He chuckles with her, “I’m trying to make puppy eyes here,” 

“Not work—”

There’s a knock at the door that makes both of them jerk up and Dean pulls her from the corner, signaling for her to hurry to her seat while he sits back behind his desk. He clicks on his laptop and a male voice starts to speak.

“Who is it?” He calls out, while the people on his laptop are still talking. 

“I’m bringing you guys coffee,”

Bela. 

“Come in,” Dean says and clicks on something on his laptop. He looks to her and nods as a signal for her to act normal.

“Don’t you think so, Winchester?” The male voice from the laptop can be heard saying and Bela places two cups on the edge of Dean’s desk.

“Winchester? You still here?” The voice says.

“Yeah, sorry, we got interrupted. Thanks Bela. Please can you close the door on your way out?” Dean says, only looking at Bela briefly. 

Bela only nods, and hurries out as Dean pretends to talk to someone on his laptop. It’s ridiculous and she has to hold in her laugh.

When the door is closed the voice on the laptop goes on, discussing something and it really sounds like they are in a real voice conference meeting. 

Y/N gets up from her chair and walks over to where his laptop is, “You’re sneaky, Mr. Winchester.”

“I know,” He grins, it’s all cocky and wide, a grin that says that he’s fucking proud of himself. 

“Do I want to know how you did this?”

“Ah,” He waves her off, “It’s too complicated.”

It’s her turn to grin, “And why do you have that on your laptop?” 

“So I can do this,” His hand grabs at her wrist and pulls her into his lap. She lands with a squeal and Dean immediately kisses her, shutting her up, preventing her from being too loud.

Dean parts and leaves his forehead on hers as he noses against her cheek, “So, what’s about that birthday thing, huh? Do you usually do something special on that day?”

The male voice in the background is still talking, but they completely tune that out.

She strokes his scruff with one hand. It’s shorter than yesterday, he took his time to shave. Her cheeks heat up as she wonders if he did it because he gave her serious beard burns down there.

“Nothing special. Usually, Bobby would take the day off on my birthday and he’d take me places because Dad never had time. He’d take Bela along and we would go to the playground, one time he took me to the Aquarium. We would end up eating so many sweets and ice cream that I had trouble going to sleep because I was on a sugar high.”

“Huh. When was the last time Bobby did this?” 

“Last year,” She says, “But Bela didn’t come. It was just me and Bobby. We went to the museum, had lunch, and a walk in the park. It was nice. I didn’t get as much ice cream, though.”

“‘K,” Dean says and pecks her nose, “Let me take you out this year then,”

“What?”

He shrugs, “I’m just following Bobby’s tradition,”

There’s a smile on his face. It’s bright and wide and how can she say no to that.

She gets off his lap with a last rough kiss. God, she loves Dean’s kisses. He just seems to know what she needs right in the moment. 

“What’s the plan apart from the conference call?” She asks as Dean switches off the male voice on his laptop. 

“I have a meeting. Your dad is coming.”

“Not me?”

Dean shuts the laptop and gets up from his chair, comes around to weave a hand around her waist, “Baby, I can’t take you like this,” His hand comes up, knuckles brushing against her bruised cheek.

“But I’ll see you later, okay?” He kisses her once more. Maybe because he can, maybe because she lets him. 

“‘K,” 

  
  
  


*

  
  


Dean left about three hours after they had their supposed conference call and she’s bored to death without having anything to do. When it’s 5 PM and there’s still no sign of Dean or her dad, she decides to send him a text. 

She started to write it, but then she deletes what she started because she feels bold and she wants to tease him. If he thinks she can be a spoiled brat, she can show him what a spoiled brat really does, huh?

Walking into her closet, she strips and chooses two sets of lingerie. She snaps one picture of each set, is careful that the backdrop on the picture can’t lead back to her and she cuts out her face, just to be on the safe side.

Throwing a bathrobe around herself, she walks out back to her bed and sends him a text.

> _Y/N: Dean?_

After a couple of minutes, she can see that he has read it but he doesn’t answer. She tries again.

> _Y/N: DEEEEAAANN_

She watches the screen light up with three dots, has to smile at that because she can imagine his face. Can imagine the annoyance in it. 

> _D: What is it?_
> 
> _Y/N: I need help_
> 
> _D: Something happened?_
> 
> _Y/N: Well…_
> 
> _D: Princess, I don’t have time for your games_

Ah, she’s princess. He can have princess, then.

> _Y/N: Quick, help me choose, red or black?_
> 
> _Y/N: [image]_
> 
> _Y/N: [image]_
> 
> _D: …_

The three dots keep appearing and disappearing.

> _D: Jesus fucking Christ, princess! Don’t start with that shit!_
> 
> _Y/N: Why, who are you with?_
> 
> _D: People who don’t need to see my dick hard_
> 
> _Y/N: Ah, so, you mean I can’t talk about how I want to ride your cock until I come all over it?_
> 
> _D: Y/N! Fucking hell!_

Ah, she has gone back to her name, so that means he’s really pissed off. It’s cute, really.

> _D: Red. You better wear it when I get back. Also, I have a surprise for you (no, not my dick)_
> 
> _Y/N: Awe, but I like your dick_
> 
> _D: Bye, baby_


	15. Chapter.14

Y/N’s in her room watching TV. It’s way past 9 PM when there’s a knock at the door. She’s still dressed in her lingerie set — the red one that Dean chose — with a short silk kimono draped over her. Getting up, she flies to the door. The kimono gets a little loose, and her right boob shows when she opens. She doesn’t think it’s bad since she’s pretty sure it’s Dean and when he’s here, he can have an eyeful. 

Only, she’s not prepared that she opens up to Ed. 

Ugh, fucking Ed. 

Grabbing her kimono and pulling it tight right below her neck, she greets him, “What is it?”

Ed’s still gasping like a fish. She can see him blushing, his ears getting redder by the second. It’s actually sweet really how he’s so flustered.

“I— Um, I—,” Ed starts to stammer, “I’m sorry, I was. They—, your father sent me to get you.”

“Where is he?” 

“In his office.”

Ed’s still hovering at her door but the poor guy doesn’t look at her anymore. 

She’s grinning, “Is that all, Ed?”

“Huh?” It’s now that Ed looks up, “Ah, yeah. Yeah. Okay, uh, bye.”

“Bye, Ed,”

Laughing, she closes the door when there’s another knock.

“I’m sorry, he meant now, as in  _ immediately _ ,” Ed calls out through the closed door.

Y/N flings it open and secures her kimono tightly before she stomps down the stairs in her slippers. She’s a little annoyed. What’s so important that it needs to be now? She didn’t even have time to dress properly? What if she had been naked? What then? She should probably go to see him naked once. Out of spite and just to prove her fucking point.

She arrives at her dad’s office door and barges in, not even having the patience to knock, but in hindsight, she probably should have because how stupid is it of her to think that he’s alone?

He’s sitting at his desk with Dean and Benny in the other two seats across from him. 

Dean almost chokes on his own saliva when he sees her, but he catches himself quickly and takes a drink from the bottled water he’s holding in his hand. 

There’s a smirk on his face as he does.

Benny looks at her differently, too. But maybe that’s just her imagination because she can never read Benny. Sometimes she thinks that he’s annoyed with her but other times she thinks that he really likes her, not romantically, but as a person.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, couldn’t you have worn something?” Her dad states, and leans back in his chair. 

“Well, Ed said you wanted to see me, and I quote,  _ immediately _ .”

She steps closer to the desk. Dean’s sitting right next to where she’s standing. She feels his gaze on her and it makes her shiver. She wonders if the others have noticed too. Her nipples start to harden underneath her silk robe, and she’s sure that they are peaking, poking at the fabric. She doesn’t dare to look down, though.

“Benny. Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Her father asks his underboss, “I have something personal to talk to my daughter.”

The man spanks his own thighs when he gets up with a grunt, “Fine,” He says and walks to the door. Turning around he calls out, “Winchester, are you coming?”

Dean doesn’t move a muscle, doesn’t even look back to Benny. 

“Dean can stay.” Her father says in that authoritarian voice of his. 

“Why is Dean staying?” Benny gestures with his hands.

“He’s my trustee.” Her dad says, and she already thought that Benny will bite back with a remark, but to her surprise, he doesn’t. The man lowers his head and walks out, but he lets the door slam. Like a big child throwing a silent tantrum.

It’s weird how Dean has made such an impact on her dad in such a short time. From what she can see, Benny doesn’t like that at all. She hopes that it won’t become a big family feud. It’s not what she needs right now and by the look of her dad, he doesn’t need it either, but he’s going to stay firm and say what he thinks. She knows that much.

He looks fragile, it hasn’t changed. His health is deteriorating and he doesn’t want to tell her what’s up. She doubts that anyone knows except for the family’s trusted doctor.

“What is it, Dad?” Y/N asks, and she doesn’t know what to do with her hand, so she plays around with the seam of her short kimono, lifting it up a little. Dean’s getting an eyeful, if he’s looking. She wouldn’t know if he is because her eyes are on her father.

“Got a surprise for you,” Her dad smiles. 

Wow, an actual smile. She hasn’t seen that in a while.

“Really?” She questions, not quite trusting it. For all she knows it could be that she doesn’t like the surprise at all. She doesn’t like surprises. Not when it comes from her dad. Because more than half of them turn out to be him wanting her to be at a function or that sort of thing. 

He fishes out a key from his suit jacket and dangles it around before holding it out for her, “Take it, it’s your car.”

“What?”

“Take it.” He says again.

“A car?” She frowns, “But you never let me drive.”

“Brand new. Tinted windows, bulletproof. It’s yours.”

She still can’t believe it, “But why are you giving me a car? I don’t understand?” Nonetheless, she reaches out and takes the keys from her father.

He leans back into his chair, head resting against the leather, “Winchester and me figured it would be better if you have your own vehicle. That way, you can be called up and meet Dean or me whenever we need you to be somewhere at a certain time and you don’t have to come with us to boring pre meetings.”

“Ah,” She huffs out. Dean obviously has something to do with it. Of course he did, “Thank you, Dad.” Walking around the desk, she places a kiss on her dad’s cheek and he pets her head. 

“Don’t thank me, thank Dean.”

Looking over to where Dean’s sitting, he grins at her brightly. 

“Thank you, Dean.”

His smile grows cocky, “You’re welcome, princess.”

“Can I test it out?” Y/N asks excitedly.

“Yeah, but take someone with you. I don’t want you driving alone the first time.”

“I’ll go with her, sir.” Dean jumps in and her heart starts to thump fast. He _ did not _ just offer himself to go with her. If that’s not obvious, then she doesn’t know what is.

To her surprise, her father just nods his head, “Yeah, take Dean. He knows his way around and I don’t trust Ed or Max enough. Immature pricks.”

“Right,” Y/N nods, “Shall we?” Dangling her keys, she smiles at Dean. 

He only cocks a questioning eyebrow at her before he gets up, “Ring me up if you need me, sir.” He says formally, before he walks out of the door with her.

Y/N skips ahead in her slippers, dangling the keys in her hand when Dean catches up with her. They walk side by side until they reach the stairs going down to the garage. 

“What?” He hisses, “You wanna go now? Dressed like this?” He gestures with his index finger up and down her body.

“Why?” She looks back as she descends the stairs, grins a little when she sees that Dean’s following her, albeit reluctantly, “You have a problem with that, Winchester?”

He rolls his eyes and groans, frowns at her again disapprovingly. It’s cute, really. Dean’s cute.

  
  
  


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Dean had to swallow hard a couple of times when he saw her barging in with that silk robe that leaves enough for imaginations. And imagining things he did. He can’t lie about that. His cock throbbed in his pants and he did his best to keep a straight face. 

_ This girl, seriously. _

She’s going to get him killed one day. He just knows. Or maybe she kills him with her bratty behaviour and her thirst for making him take risks. Dean’s been played by her, but it’s in the best way, he doesn’t complain about that. It’s just… he wishes that they’re not what they are. It would definitely be easier and he doesn’t have to feel like he’s breaking every damn rule in the family’s book — which he does, but it’s crazy how he doesn’t fucking care.

While they walk, he can see that the bruise that was around her throat is healing nicely. There are only some traces left on her cheek.

“Which one is it?” She asks, as they step into the garage and eyes the wild array of fleets that belongs to the family. 

“That one,” Dean points to a black SUV, at the end of the line of the parked cars.

Azazel wanted it black, of course he did, and Dean had no say in it, neither did she. He wonders if she would have wanted it in any other color. Wonders if she wanted an SUV at all, he guesses she doesn’t.

“Why didn’t my dad just get me another driver?” She asks him as they walk over to her vehicle.

Dean shrugs, “Said the time isn’t right to employ more people right now, and he needs his resources somewhere else. He trusts you, so you gotta take that.”

“I do,” She smiles.

It’s a beautiful smile. It gets his heart racing. 

That afternoon, Dean used every charming technique he knew, and poured it into convincing Azazel to let her have her own car. Telling him that it would be easier for him if he didn’t have to take her with him the whole day when she’s only needed for a couple of hours. Dean doesn’t actually mind if he has to take her with him, but he wants her to be her own person and he thought that if she has her own car and is free to move around on her own, that’s already a good step into the right direction. 

To Dean’s surprise, Azazel was quick to agree. He doesn’t know what’s up with that old man anymore. It seems like he completely trusts Dean. Little does Azazel know that his trust is going to be his downfall. Dean almost feels sorry for him. Almost. Not quite there yet. He shouldn’t let his heart rule his fucking head. It’s already enough that his dick has too much say in this.

They settle into the car with Dean riding shotgun while she moves her seat, but it doesn’t seem to go as far forward as she wants it to. Dean grins as he watches her struggle to move it forward some more.

“You need some help there?” 

“Please?” She pouts and that’s not fair. He’d do about anything right now. 

Leaning over, he helps her push forward, and she almost hits the wheel. He knows that she has to be that far up because her legs wouldn’t be able to reach the pedals but still, it looks cuter than he’d imagined and he has to chuckle, “You good?” 

Her hands adjust the mirror, “Yeah,”

“Any further up and you’ll be sitting outside of the car.” He jokes.

Y/N sends him a glare and grimaces, “Yeah, haha, I have short legs, funny.” She starts the engine and puts the gear in reverse, drives back and forward again with a screech. 

“Woah, chill, baby, I don’t want to die just yet.”

“You should just sit back and relax or I’ll kick you out and get Max in here. At least he knows how to have fun.” There’s a glint in her eyes as she says it. It’s challenging, it’s also a tease. He hates that he loves that side of her, “Don’t make me regret taking you for a joyride, Dean.”

He has to chuckle, licks his lips while he does, before he looks over, “Sweetheart, there’s nothing you’re going to regret on this ride.”

  
  


*

Ten minutes in, she starts to fiddle with the sound system. Changes stations because they haven’t hooked her phone up to the system yet and she doesn’t have her phone with her or he could have done it now. 

“Eyes on the road, Y/N,” Dean says as she finally found a station she likes with awful music. 

While she stares ahead, he takes the opportunity, his finger going to the stereo to push at a button, but her hand comes up, swats his away. 

Dean looks at her stunned and she frowns at him, “Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole, Dean!”

He groans with an eye roll, “Fine!” Crossing his arms over his chest, he leans back, “Where do you wanna go?”

“I don’t know, you tell me?”

That has piqued his interest and he sits up straighter, grins that crooked grin, “You wanna get frisky?”

She gasps dramatically, “Oh my god! You think I’m easy!”

Dean couldn’t help but snort. 

There’s a laugh next to him and she winks, “Tell me where.”

And maybe he shouldn’t know this, but he does because he’s been scouting places for quite a while before he even got into the organization, but he knows exactly where they can go to not get caught. So Dean gives her direction, leads her through side lanes and narrow alleys until they are parked behind a warehouse he knows belongs to the family. He also knows that there’s nobody here except for the security guy Azazel has on his payroll, but that guy’s no doubt sleeping on his shift, because nothing ever happens.

  
  


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Y/N kills the engine and turns to Dean, “You sure nobody’s going to come knocking?”

“I’m pretty sure, yeah.”

Her little frown turns upside down into a grin and she unbuckles her belt, climbs over the middle console quickly, and before he can blink, she’s in his lap. 

Dean doesn’t say much, welcomes her there and she is stunned how familiar it is to be in his lap. She likes the place, thinks she fits perfectly. 

Looking down at him, she smiles, “Hi,”

His hand goes to her waist, and he rests it there while his other hand traces lines from her collarbone up to her cheek, knuckles brushing against her heated skin. 

“Hi,” Dean chuckles, smiles at her too. The lighting is not good, but she sees the white of his teeth.

His hand goes to the back of her neck, pulls her down while he cranes his own upwards. 

Their lips meet, it’s soft and tender, it’s hesitant, as if they need time to adjust again after being apart for a day. It’s not a long period of time, but it’s enough for her heart to ache. She’s fallen for him, hasn’t she? Has fallen head over heels into the rabbit hole with Dean’s name on it. 

The kiss grows heavier, goes wilder, her hands fist in his hair, his are around her, one hand on her back, fingertips digging into her silk robe, his other hand on her hips, helping her grind on his hard bulge.

He’s so hard and she’s getting wet too, is sure that she’s already soaked through her panties that are barely there anyway.

He parts with a suck to her lips, letting it bounce back wetly and she sits upright, looking down into his dark eyes, sees his lips shining with their spit.

His fingers find the knot of her kimono, pulling at it, letting it fall open. Dean bites on his lower lip, grins a little, “You’re really still wearing it,” The pad of his fingers travel up her exposed stomach, teases below her breasts before he draws circles on her hardening nipples above the lace fabric of her bra, “Fuck,”

Pulling the bra down, he leaves it just below her breasts before he twirls at her nipples and kneads her tits. 

“So amazing,” He breathes out, before he leans forward and sucks in one of the peaks, flicking his tongue against her hard nub and kneads the one not in his mouth with his hand. 

Her hands are in his hair, and she pulls him closer, arches her back. He parts with a last kiss to each nipple, grins up at her, “Could do this all day,” He says with a boyish smile that makes her heart melt.

She chuckles and leans down, nibbles at his throat, sprays kisses up to his ear, “You said I should wear it,”

“I didn’t think you’d listen,” He says and grabs at her ass, kneads them while he tries to get her to grind on him some more, “Such a good girl, baby.”

God, the praise. It’s her weakness and she has a strong feeling that he knows because he can’t stop them coming out of his mouth either. 

“Ain’t ya?” He asks and by now she’s kissing up his jaw, places kisses on his cheek, the corner of his lips, “My good girl,” 

Fuck. She gets wetter. It definitely soaks through her garment.

“Only yours,” Y/N says, because it’s true. 

Claiming his mouth, she kisses him messily and he lets her, hands roaming on her body, kneading, pulling, digging. 

She bites on his bottom lip, makes him moan into her mouth and she swallows it down with a grin. Pecking his lips once more, she moves lower, snaking her way down his body, and Dean takes the opportunity to push his seat back to the maximum so that it would allow them more space. 

His eyes are on her as she kneels down, hands coming up to stroke up and down his thighs and Dean bites on his bottom lip. His hips are jerking, which makes her grin. 

“That’s torture,” He says through gritted teeth, making her laugh. 

Cocking her eyebrow, she looks up at him, sees him staring down at her with a little frown, “Where’s your self-control, Dean?”

His eyebrows are rising on his forehead at her question, and he takes a couple of deep breaths, calming himself down. After three more calming breaths, he pulls himself together to speak, “Baby, I’m controlling myself, alright? If it was up to me, I’d have you bent over in the back seat already.”

“Is that so?” She smirks, her hand travels over his bulge, cups his dick through the fabric of his slack and Dean groans above her.

“Y-yeah,” He swallows hard when her hand goes to his belt and unbuckles it. Her fingers work on his hook and zipper next, pulling it down extra slowly, and she feels him wriggling with his hips, and has to laugh at that, “Jesus, Y/N, I’m dying here!”

So much for self-control. 

She cups his cock again, squeezes it a little, eliciting a deep growl and Dean throws his head back. She can hear it hitting the headrest with a thud. Chuckling, she rubs at the hardness of him over the fabric, sucks at the tip where she can feel a patch of wetness seeping through. Dean groans some more, snorting loudly too. So cute.

With one hand, she lifts up the elastic of his underwear and goes in with the other, grabbing and stroking his hard shaft before she pulls it out and tugs the underwear further down so they rest below his balls. 

Y/N lays her head on his thighs sideways and watches her hand stroking him, watching herself caressing his balls. Dean’s impatient because he’s barely coherent. She loves him like this. Loves it that she’s the one who can make him feel the way he feels.

Sitting back up on her heels between his thighs, she takes his hard cock into one hand. It’s pulsing in her palm, feels warm and heavy. Her other hand is on his thigh, stroking up and down as she closes in on his dick. She looks up when her face is inches from his crotch, sees him looking down at her. Sees him watching her with those eyes that are a shade darker. He licks his lips and she replicates it. 

Sticking her tongue out, she tickles at his balls before she kisses them softly. Dean grits his teeth and something comes out a hiss. She can’t really make out what he’s saying to her, but it doesn’t matter anyway.

She licks and sucks at his balls while she tries to stroke his dick at the same time. It goes alright, could probably be better, but she’s not really an expert in the field. Not yet. Dean doesn’t seem to mind, if his incoherent hisses are anything she can go by. 

Flattening her tongue, she licks up his shaft next, licks at the sensitive area behind on the downside of his cock head and tickles over the opening where his pre-cum is pooling. She tastes him. Tastes Dean, and it’s intoxicating, it makes her want more. 

Y/N sucks at the tip, just a little, and she looks up at him, sees him still watching her. His hand comes to her face, pets her hair and tucks strands of it back behind her ear, “So good, baby, you look so good.” 

Moaning at the praise, she closes her eyes briefly before she takes him in further. She starts to bob her head up and down, taking him in as far as it can go. Retches and chokes every now and then.

Dean’s breathing is ragged above her, his hand on her head but he doesn’t force her down or anything. 

“Just like that, baby, just like that. My god, you’re doing great,” He says, his voice is a little broken, “Fuck, so good baby, such a good girl.”

His words go straight to her core and she has to clench. It’s not satisfying because she clenches around nothing.

“Hey,” He whispers, places his hand that’s on her head to her chin and lifts it up. She still has his dick in her mouth, her lips around the thick of him, “Look at me,” 

She does, opens her eyes that are a little teary but she continues to suckle at the tip.

“Jesus, you look so good with my cock in your mouth,” He smiles like he’s really fond of her, “You like sucking cock, huh?”

She nods, and lets the head pop out, smiling at him while she strokes it, “Love it,” 

“Good girl,” Dean smiles, his crinkles showing and all, it gets her a little hotter as she continues to suck him off, “Like sucking  _ my _ cock, ain’t ya?”

“Mmh-huh,” Y/N moans with his dick in her mouth. 

“I like it when you suck it too, oh my god, your mouth feels so good,” He whispers low and dirty. It makes her head woozy. 

With determination, she sucks him off harder, bobs her head faster and Dean growls loudly. 

After another minute he’s already had enough and pulls her off, “God, I want your pussy,” His hand grips around her arms, pulling her up into his lap and crashes his mouth onto hers. 

Dean’s tongue invades her mouth, sucks his own taste off her tongue and he’s greedy about it too. It’s messy and wild. God, she loves it. Has never experienced anything like that kind of sex before.

“Sit on it,” Dean breathes into her mouth and she nods, while his one hand goes to her throat, holding her up like that. He’s careful not to hurt her either, plus she likes that kind of pain.

Her hand finds her panties, pulls them to the side and she wraps her hand around his shaft, threads the tip through her slick. Dean groans at the feel, throws his head back for a moment while she keeps teasing the head of his cock. 

She moans too, it’s hard not to when it already feels so good while his head rubs against her clit. She does it some more, just because she can, and maybe because she’s a tease. 

“Fucking hell, you’re killing me for real,” He chokes out brokenly while simultaneously trying to buck up his hips.

Y/N still has his dick in her hand and pulls away when she feels him pushing his hips up, laughing as she goes. 

“Baby,” He whines, “Please?”

Ah, he says please. So stinking cute when he loses it like that.

“Nuh-uh,” She giggles and leans forward to kiss his nose, his cheek, kisses it some more and squeals when she feels his hand coming up to take his cock out of her grip. 

“Nu-uh?” He asks, kisses her back too, licks at her throat after, “You’re such a tease,” He growls as his fingers touches her there, rubs circles on her clit and finally dipping two of his thick digits right in. They slide in easily, she’s soaked, and he hooks them just right while one hand is going to the back of her head, pulling her closer to kiss and whisper to her. 

Y/N whimpers into his mouth, while he fucks her with his fingers. It feels so fucking great and she can’t help but move above him. Her one hand goes to her center, rubs around there. 

“Yeah, that’s it, baby. Make yourself come. Come on my fingers,” 

And that, she does. It took her an embarrassingly short amount of time too. That’s what Dean’s doing to her. 

He kisses her hot and hungrily while he still rubs wet circles around her clit, helping her calm down, “So good, good girl.” 

The praises never stop. It’s the best and she keens, whimpers some more before she parts with a suck of her tongue around his lips.

Sitting up a little, she grins while she places the tip of his cock to her entrance. Dean rests his hands on his side and watches her sitting down slowly. She moans at the feeling of the thick of him stretching her. 

“Oh fuck,” Y/N hisses, bites down on her lip. 

“Goddamit,” Dean breathes out hotly as he, like her, watches her slowly impaling herself on his hard cock, “You’re so tight, it’s as if I’ve never fucked you.”

“I know,” She replies and holds her breath at the stretch, holds it in until she’s sitting down fully. Skin pressed on skin. 

“Christ, you feel so fucking good, baby,”

The hand that’s been inside of her comes up to trace along her bottom lip and she takes his wrist, sucks in his fingers and tastes herself off him while she still doesn’t move. 

Dean groans, “God, baby,” He takes the hand out of her mouth, brushes along her cheeks with the knuckles of it, “You’re really going to kill me one day.”

“It’d be a great death.”

“Weirdly, I have to agree,” He chuckles and squeezes his eyes shut when she starts to bounce on top of him. 

His hands are all over her, touches her throat and tits, pinches and twists her nipples, making her arch her back. He lets her set the pace, lets her take everything from him that she needs. 

“That’s it, just like that,” He whispers low when she twists her hips just right for him to reach the spot where his dick can literally make her sing, “Good girl, just like that,”

“Fuck,” Y/N throws her head back as her orgasm hits her out of nowhere, making her tremble above him. 

Dean’s holding her around her waist, preventing her from falling down. 

“Jesus, I’m going to come too,” He speaks through gritted teeth, “Where do you want me to come? I can’t come in you, ah— fuck, the seats,” He stammers, “Your dad will know,”

Quick thinking on her part has her blurt out something and she really does want that. Wants to taste him, “In my mouth,” 

“Goddammit,” He growls, “Then get off my cock, baby,” 

Hopping off, she snakes her way down again, smiling up at him as he fists his slick cock. God, the sight alone could make her come again. He looks so hot, when he’s concentrated. Dean licks his lips as he pants. 

“Open your mouth—, fuck—, suck it so I won’t spill around,” 

Y/N nods before she wraps her lips around his cock head, sucks at it while he still fists his shaft. Dean lets out a low growl, it vibrates to his cock, she can feel it on her tongue, can feel something else too. Something warm coating it. It’s thick and there’s a lot of it. 

She swallows, has to do it twice to be able to get it all down. And then she takes his cock back into her mouth, goes down and up again, suck at it in order to get it all out. She swallows the last drop too.

He’s panting, chuckling a little when she looks up at him. His fingers tracing along her face, thumbs at her bottom lip, “Did you swallow it all?”

“Yes,” She smiles and hears him groaning again.

Dean tucks his spent cock away, and she rights her panties and bra while she is still getting used to the taste of his cum in her mouth. It’s not really tasty, but it’s not bad either. She’s a little confused. It’s her first time swallowing so much cum and it’s a little weird. Not really gross, but weird.

When he’s dressed, he grabs her and pulls her into his lap, kisses her with tongue and all, and she’s surprised he’s not weirded out by the taste of his own cum that is still very much present in her mouth. 

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He’s still recovering from an orgasm that makes him see fucking stars. The sight of her open mouth waiting for him to shoot his load down her throat was too much and he was fucking done for. It took everything in him to tell her to suck at his cock head because really, he was afraid he'd miss her mouth and instead would shoot it all over. It’s not going to go down great for her if someone noticed it. 

“God, you’re something else, you know that?” He says when he parts from the kiss and he noses at her cheek. Dean’s quick to manhandle her around so that she’s sitting sideways on his lap and she lays her head onto his shoulder while he strokes her thigh with one hand, “I’m risking everything for you,”

It’s not even a lie. He really is. And the lengths he’s willing to go should frighten him. It does in a way, but apparently not enough for him to stay away.

“I’ll put in a good word for you when they catch us.” She jokes and it works a little, Dean’s chuckling. 

“Didn’t you do that for Adam?” Not that he wants to mention that dude, but he’s really curious.

“Nah, he wasn’t someone I was attached to.” She shrugs.

Dean’s heart is beating fast, he’s sure she can feel it too. So she thinks he’s different to Adam. He takes it. Feels a little proud.

He wonders if he should tell her what her dad’s plans are for her birthday. Well, actually the weekend after her birthday. He wonders if she’d be mad at him because he knows and didn’t tell her. She probably will and he rather enjoys the time with her a little longer without her getting on his case. It’s still almost two weeks away anyway. There’s no reason for him to bring it up now. Instead, he can tell her the other thing, the one that won’t make her angry at him. 

Tilting his head, he kisses her cheek, “Your dad is letting me take you out on your birthday,” He says, and sees her sitting up, sees her grinning. 

“Really?”

“Really,” He grins with her and she hugs him around his neck, pressing her lips to his skin. 

Dean enjoys it. Still can. One day, she’ll be mad at him and she’ll hate him. She’ll probably turn him away — but for now, he takes what he can get. He’s so fucking gone on her, it’s not even funny anymore. And that’s actually scary because the thing that will come up and tear them apart will hurt him as much as it’ll hurt her. Maybe even more because he knows his feelings for her. He isn’t sure about her feelings for him yet, but he has a strong idea that she’ll be as devastated as he will be. But that’s a thought for another time. Right now, he has another surprise, hopes that she’ll like that one too. 

“And you know what?” He fishes a key out of his jacket pocket, dangles it in front of her. 

Y/N frowns. It’s cute because he can literally see her brain trying to add two and two together. She soon gives up though, doesn’t seem to have a clue what the key is for. 

“It’s the key to my apartment, you can go there whenever you feel like you need to shut yourself out from your life and slip into another one. A place where you can be yourself.”

She’s teary, her eyes are glistening and she’s speechless because she can’t bring out a word. Instead, she grabs him by his face and presses her lips to his. 

“Thank you,” She whispers.

“You’re welcome,” He says, “See it as an early birthday present.”

There’s a little frown, “Does that mean that you’ll have nothing for my birthday?”

Dean cocks his eyebrow as she laughs.

“I’m joking, Dean. Thank you. That’s more than enough.” She kisses his cheek gently and he holds her a little tighter. 

They stay like that for a moment longer, both of them not ready to go back to reality yet. But then Dean needs to be the responsible one around here. 

He kisses the top of her head, “Let’s go back, your father will kill me otherwise, and we won’t get to spend your birthday together,”

“Okay,” She mumbles, but she doesn’t move.

“Baby,” Dean lifts his hips, wills her to move. 

“Can you drive? My knees feel wobbly.” 

Dean throws his head back and laughs. 

He lifts her off his lap after he calms down enough, “Okay, but just so you know, we are rolling those windows down all the way till we get home. It stinks like sex in here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, thank you for sticking with me and this story. We're about halfway done. I hope you stay for the rest of the ride <3


	16. Chapter.15

The next day, Dean had a packed schedule and she had to entertain herself. He sneaked into her room in the evening though. They laid in bed and watched a movie together, with her head on his chest while he stroked her hair. It was good, he really enjoyed it. It was different and it’s really not just about sex. And  _ that _ should scare him. Being so deep into his feelings should scare him. It should, because he, of all people, should know that what they have won’t end well. 

It never does end well. Dean’s not made for a comfortable life, not made for happy endings.

After the movie, they spent time talking and making out, with her sitting in his lap. The weight of her paired with the sweet kisses had made him hard, of course it had. He tried his best to ignore it though, because it’s not what he wanted. And it didn’t even matter how much she begged for it — which she did, and in the most seductive way too. Still, Dean didn’t cave — at least at first — and he thinks he should have gotten a freaking medal for it.

Sex was on his mind. Come on, how could it not be, with her warm body in his lap and her tongue in his mouth. But it’s not what he wanted, at least it’s not everything he wanted out of it. He wanted exactly what he got at that moment. Intimacy, sweet kisses, hushed whispers. He wanted to feel her, wanted to just  _ be  _ together. With her.

He caved a little by the end of their night, though, but who could blame him really. He couldn’t resist. Not when she begged and wriggled her hips. So Dean laid her down and ate her out. He buried his face deep into her cunt, letting her rub it all over him, smothering him. At one point he had trouble breathing but he thought, even if he was to go that way, it wouldn’t have mattered. 

As Dean fucked her with his tongue, her hands were in his hair, nails digging into his scalp. It hurt but it was a good kind of hurt. The kind of hurt that made him lick her more furiously, fucked his tongue deeper into her pussy. The kind of hurt that’s bittersweet. Something that reminded him subconsciously that what he was doing was wrong— but it felt so right.

By the end of the evening, he made her come twice on his tongue. So in the end, it was a win-win. She got something and he got even more. Kisses and the sweet taste of her pussy. Dean stopped before it could have gotten any hotter between them, and had to kiss her pout away.

He didn’t stay till morning, though. Not that he didn’t want to. It was because he wanted it too much, and they should keep their encounter at their home to the bare minimum. So when the house was still and eerily quiet, he walked back to his room in his socked feet. 

  
  


*

  
  


Two days ago, he gave her the key to his apartment and Dean wonders if she’ll be there today. He didn’t contact her at all today, just saw her briefly this morning when he handed her a file she should look over and tell him if it’s a deal they should do or not. It’s also a test to see if she gets what it’s all about. She had looked at him with a frown, but she took it and disappeared into her room. 

It was a rocky start to what seemed to be a stressful day. 

He managed to send out a text later, asking her if she can meet him at  _ ‘the library’ _ , which is a code word for his apartment. He hasn’t heard anything back. 

He had meetings in the morning. Dean’s so close to quitting. Had thought about telling his boss that he’s  _ out _ , had thought about asking her to run away with him. He really wonders if she would. 

Quitting was not on the menu, though. But instead, Dean let himself be pressured into staying longer. Especially now, after he gave his supervisor his written report about what’s going to happen in the next couple of weeks. Naomi said that this could be  _ it _ . That it could mean that they will get Azazel and even more.

And he knows exactly what  _ more _ means. Doesn’t mean he’s happy about it.

Dean drives to his apartment angrily. Is a little disappointed in himself to not have the courage to quit. He still gnaws on his bottom lip as he parks next to her car. 

It’s weird, but knowing that she’s here makes his day so much better already. Dean gets out hastily and flies up the stairs, hurrying to get into the apartment. 

The smell is the first thing he notices when he steps in. It smells flowery and not like his apartment usually smells. Normally it’s stale, doesn’t smell like much of anything at all because nobody really lives here. He notices that she has put up some scented candles, probably had tried to make it homier, more comfortable. Dean can’t find it in himself to be grumpy anymore.

He hears the TV from his room and he walks in to see her on his bed. Y/N’s laying on her stomach and looking through the pages of the file he gave her this morning to look over. 

Dean can tell that she hasn’t even heard him yet, or if she did, she doesn’t react. Is probably still upset that he didn’t pay her enough attention. She’s giving him the silent treatment and Instead of looking up, she picks up a highlighter and highlights over a section on the paper before she exchanges the highlighter with a pen. Dean has to chuckle. She’s such a nerd. It’s really cute. He also thinks it’s cute that she tries to be mad at him. It’s going to pass, he’s sure of that. It’s not a reason to mull over and he’s sure that she knows that too.

The sight is sexy as hell too, because she’s in a pair of boyshorts underwear and a strap top, after having made herself comfy. Half of her ass is showing. He’s drooling a little at the sight, and has to swallow down some excess saliva.

Taking off his jacket, he drapes it over the chair that’s right by the door before he flings himself onto the bed and lays there next to her while she chews on her pen. She still doesn’t react.

He waits, lays there in silence with his eyes closed, and listens to her scribbling things onto the paper. It’s weird how just being here next to her already calms his soul. 

After a while, Dean opens his eyes again, letting out a sigh. That somehow has gotten her attention, because he can hear her stop writing.

“Let’s run away,” 

The words blurted out of him, and before he can even think of how to stop them, they are out in the open.

Looking over, he sees Y/N frowning down at him, sees her cocking one eyebrow too, as if she tries to understand what he just said.

Dean rolls onto his side and inches closer to her. He drapes an arm around her waist, strokes her side while he nuzzles his nose against her shoulder, kisses her there softly. 

“What do you say? Today, you and me, road trip.” He mumbles against her skin, breathes in her scent. 

She lays her forehead against his head, “Now?” She snorts out a soft chuckle, “You don’t mean it,”

Oh, if only she knew how much he  _ really  _ means it.

Dean lifts his head up, looks her in the eye and leans forward, kisses her frown away that’s still there, “I do.”

He knows he shouldn’t answer so truthfully, can’t really help it. It’s the only thing he thinks he really wants right now.

“Dean,” 

His name comes out of her mouth like a warning. He kisses her lips, lingers there longer than he has to just because he can. 

“Y/N,”

She smiles, “You don’t mean it, right?”

His heart is picking up speed, “I do,” 

“I want to,” Y/N says after a while. 

She abandons her paperwork. Dean lays himself back down and she comes down with him, presses the upper half of her body on his chest, her face hovers above his, “But I can’t.” She lays it into the crook of his neck, forehead brushing against his scruff.

“I know you can’t,” He says, hand reaching out to smooth back her hair.

Her hand comes up, fingertips brushing along his face. She paints over his eyebrows, down his nose, dotting out his freckles. His hands are stroking up and down her body. 

“You know that my father won’t stop haunting us if we leave.” 

Dean knows that. He also knows that it’s not only her father and the family that’s going to be between them, but also the whole fucking FBI. The mob is the lesser of two evils regarding hunting people down. 

“Yeah,” He lets out a whiff of hot air, “It requires a lot of planning.” He agrees. 

Nonetheless, he’d still do it if she’d say  _ yes  _ here and now.

She lifts her head to look at him, frowns again, and Dean’s thumb goes up to ease the crease between her eyebrows, “You wouldn’t want to be with me 24/7 though. I can be a brat.”

He has to chuckle and she grins, wriggles a little with her eyebrows. It’s stinking cute.

“I think I can handle that,” Both of his hands go down her body, lifts them up and strikes down on her ass, making her yelp up and laugh. 

Leaving one hand on her ass cheek, his other hand strokes back up her body until it rests at the back of her neck. Dean draws her in, kisses her, and she parts her lips, granting him access.

As always, their kisses grow more heavy, rougher, and Dean holds her steady, pulls her closer and rolls her around so he’s on top. Y/N giggles against his lips. It’s a beautiful sound that he swallows, drinks it up like it could prolong his own life. 

“Don’t you have to be anywhere?” She whimpers as he parts and he watches her craning her neck, chasing his lips with her face. Her eyes are still closed and Dean has to suppress a laugh. He knows he repeats himself but it’s really super cute.  _ She’s  _ really super cute.

“I have a little more than an hour,” He looks down at her, sees her lips swollen and glistening. Her cheeks are flushed too, “Can we cuddle?”

She laughs, the sound of it bright in the room. 

After she calmed herself down enough, she asks, “Big bad Dean wants to cuddle?” 

“Well, I’d want so much more but since you’ve told me that you’re sore from all the fucking we’ve been doing and from me eating you out, I figured cuddles are the way to go.”

Still smirking, she hooks her legs around his waist and uses her force to wrestle him around so he’s laying on his back. Of course, Dean helps her a bit, there’s no way that she can turn him around without him helping out. She doesn’t have to know, though.

Leaning down, she starts to kiss his face, places kisses all over his nose and cheek, making him chuckle underneath her. 

God, he loves the playfulness of them together. Honestly, he wishes that he didn’t have to be anywhere at all so they could stay in bed and just be silly.

Slowly, Y/N makes her way down his throat, sucks in a patch and makes him groan. He doesn’t know why it affects him this much but it does, and he can’t help it. It doesn’t help that she rubs herself against his crotch either. She should know not to rile him up when he can’t really fuck her stupid. 

Dean spanks down on her ass, making her yelp against the crook of his neck and release the skin she sucked in, “Baby, you shouldn’t start what you can’t finish,”

She’s really a brat. He hates that he loves it.

Before Dean even knows it, she’s hopped off his crotch and sits on her heels between his thighs. Her skilled fingers are working on his belt. She’s a quick girl, has the belt open and zipper down before Dean can say no. And all the while, she stares at him with that glint in her eyes that bears a hint of mischievousness.

“Baby, you don’t have to,” He says it anyway. That’s because he means it. She really doesn’t have to. 

Y/N’s grinning when she looks down at him, her fingers pulling down his underwear halfway, his already half hard cock springing free, “Just let me make you feel good, am I not allowed to do that?”

And there’s that fucking pout on her lips that makes him weak. She knows that too, always uses it against him.

“No,” He moans out because she’s holding his cock in her hand. It grows harder as she begins to stroke it, “Right, carry on then.” He grins cockily, can’t really help it. 

There’s a smile on her face that goes up to her eyes, her crinkles showing. Unlike his, hers are only faint. They are crinkles in the making. Dean isn’t lying when he thinks that it makes her look more beautiful. 

Scooching back, she lowers her body and nuzzles her face right into his balls, sucks them in too, fucking making him forget where he is for a moment while he groans low. He has to prop himself up on his elbows because there’s no chance in hell he isn’t going to watch this. 

Her back is arched, her ass sticks up in the air, it looks alluring. It makes him harder.

She spits onto his dick, lubricates it and massages it in, it feels incredible, “You like it wet, don’t you?” 

Fuck, yes, he does.

“God, yes,” He hisses when her hand twists at the head with a little more pressure, milking out his pre-cum as she does.

Holding his dick upright, she sticks out her tongue and toys at the slit, circles her lips around it to spread his pre-cum before she opens her mouth wider, wrapping her lips around the thick of him and slowly moves down his shaft.

Dean throws his head back, grunts out a noise that comes out of the depths of his throat. It isn’t coherent. He’s past caring.

Her face is frowning in concentration as she works his lengths. It’s full of determination as she tries to work him deeper into her throat. She’s retching and coughing at times. His dick comes out her mouth dripping as she strokes it while she tries to catch her breath. 

“Jesus, you really like sucking dick, don’t you baby?”

“Uh-huh,” She nods, and blinks her tears away, “Love your cock,” As soon as she says it, she gobbles him down again, bobs her head rhythmically and Dean reaches out a hand, holds her hair away from her face because it prevents him from seeing her. 

She’s getting so good at it, and he really sees that she enjoys doing it. If not, he’d pull her off long ago but Jesus Christ, the girl is taking him deeper and deeper, working the lengths that won’t go down with her wet hand. It’s fucking heaven.

“You’re doing so good, baby. Sucking me off so fucking good. That’s it,” He exhales sharply, “Just like that, good girl.”

Dean knows what effects his praises have on her. Had known since he said it the first time. He isn’t even lying about it either because she’s a really fucking good girl. 

As soon as the praises hit her ear above all the slurping noises that she does, he can feel her sucking him harder, feels her fingers caressing his balls. They are wet with her spit too. It runs down between his ass crack. 

Letting out his dick with a loud popping sound, she brushes her mouth with the back of her hand as she gets on her knees. His dick pops back against his shirt wetly. Y/N moves lower, pull at his pants and takes them off, almost tearing his underwear apart because she tugs a little too hard. 

When everything’s off, she gets back on the bed, slots herself between his thighs and Dean opens up for her. It’s that easy really, all inhibitions and shame is non-existent with her. But apparently, him widening his thighs is not enough because her small hands are on his knees, pushing them apart some more. 

“What are you— Jesus!” He chokes out his word because her nose is practically beneath his balls as she sucks and kisses his rim. 

As Dean said before, all inhibitions are gone because by now, he’s holding himself up by the back of his knees and looks down to watch her rimming him. He can’t  _ not  _ watch. It’s not in his nature to  _ not  _ watch. 

His balls are resting on the bridge of her nose as she tickles his rim with the tip of her tongue. Her hands are on his ass then, parting them to gain better access and  _ holy shit fuck _ .

“Oh my fucking god—” Dean bites on his bottom lip, as her tongue licks at the nerves around his puckered hole. God, fuck, he’s so fucking sensitive there, it’s like a straight wire to his cock.

“Fuck,” He mumbles, has to groan loudly as she eats his ass like it’s the most delicious thing. 

His dick is leaking, dripping clear liquid onto his shirt and Dean wishes that he had a set of clothes here to change into. He has normal clothes here still, but no dress shirts and suits. He’d put in a mental reminder to himself that he should leave some suits here, if he’s able to think fucking straight, that is.

Y/N hums while she licks and sucks and Dean’s really done for. It doesn’t need much anymore, he’s so fucking close to bursting. She hums some more when she works her way up, trailing her magic fucking tongue up his rim. And then she searches for his balls, has to chuckle when she realizes that they’re up higher than they normally would be, and god, she sucks them in sharply one by one, letting them out with a lewd pop before she makes him release his legs and places both her hands on his thighs. She licks up his shaft, takes him in without using her hands and starts to bob her head again, suckling at just the tip, while she uses her hand again, working his length with it.

It makes him lose his fucking mind. 

“Baby, I— fuck— coming, keep on going, don’t— don’t stop,” He’s groaning, tries his best not to fuck up into her mouth. 

“Jesus, fuck!” Dean growls low. All the restraint of not fucking into her mouth has left his body and he bucks up his hips as he spills his load.

She chokes and coughs, swallows half of it down while the other half dribbles down his cock, that she’s still stroking. 

Looking at him with teary eyes, she smiles, the remains of his cum still sticking to the corner of her lips, drips down her chin.

_ Goddamn beautiful. _

Dean’s comes down from his high, jerks his hips and swats her hand away because it’s just too fucking sensitive right now. And she laughs. Fucking laughs.

Getting up from the bed, she’s still laughing when she makes her way out the door and comes back with a washcloth, throwing it into his face. It makes him curse loudly while she giggles. 

He can’t even be mad about it.

She’s still licking her hand when she sits down next to him and watches him clean himself from his release. Dean finishes and tucks his cock back in before pulling up his pants. He throws the cloth back at her, but she ducks at the right time and it lands on the floor. 

His hand shoots out, grabs her and pulls her close, kisses her because he likes the taste. If she’s not grossed out, he’s not going to be either.

“Thank you,” He whispers against her lips, feeling her grinning against him.

“Was it okay?” 

“God, yes.” Dean chuckles, “You really like sucking my cock, huh?” 

She’s embarrassed, smirks a little and nuzzles her head into the crook of his neck. Instead of answering him, though, she changes the subject, “Where’s your next meeting?”

Dean groans as he gets up, pushing her up with him to sit, “HQ.”

“Ah, I’ll go there too. I have a meeting with Garth and his burgers.” 

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


Y/N had left before him. It wouldn’t look good when they arrive at the same time so he cleans up his apartment after she left, changes the bedding and basically took his time to come down from the mind-blowing orgasm she gave him. 

This fucking girl seriously stole his heart and blows his fucking mind.

When Dean arrives at the restaurant, he’s still over twenty minutes early. Once he steps inside, he immediately spots her. She’s sitting at the counter and eats her burger while she seems to be engaged in a funny conversation with both Garth and Jo who are standing on the other side of the counter, laughing and joking around. It’s the first time he sees that. Her having friends that is. Someone she can talk to. Someone she can laugh with. He likes the sound of her laughter, thinks that it’s a little different from when she’s with him. Feels a little pang of jealousy too, but he’s happy for her that she can have that with people she trusts.

Dean walks up to them, greets everyone and steals fries from her plate.

Garth immediately gasps, and Jo just giggles while Y/N glares at him sideways with a frown on her face. 

Dean’s eyes widen while he’s still chewing. He would just love to kiss it away, but instead, he speaks with his mouth full of fries, “What?” 

He doesn’t get it because Garth shakes his head while Jo tries to pull herself together. 

“What?” He asks again because seriously  _ what? _

Garth takes a couple of deep breaths before he speaks and it looks like he’s hyperventilating a little but he’s not. It’s weird but that’s just Garth, “You obviously have no idea, do you?”

Tilting his head, Dean looks to Y/N who’s trying her best to make a stern face, but she’s slowly breaking, he knows. Knows that twitch of her lips. 

“What?” Dean says again and it slowly grows annoying. He looks to Garth and Jo and they exchange looks.

“Dean, Y/N doesn’t share fries. I’m actually surprised she hasn't chopped off your head yet.” Garth turns around to walk to the kitchen and calls back out to him, “Do you want a burger too? I can fix up your own plate.”

“Only if it’s not too much trouble!” He calls to the back and Garth already puts a patty on the grill. Dean turns to Jo, ignoring the side-eyes Y/N still sends him, “Are they all downstairs?”

“I’ve seen Crowley, but Benny’s not here yet, but maybe they took the back door.” Jo shrugs.

Dean nods. 

It’s only five minutes later that Garth comes out with a plate of burger and fries for him. The fries are a little stale, meaning Garth probably didn’t make a new batch. Dean doesn’t complain, food is food and at least here, he knows that he won’t get fucking poisoned.

Jo walks by the counter to wait the tables that have cleared when Dean sits down to enjoy his burger, but then she stalls right next to him, comes so close and is right in his fucking space when she takes a whiff to fucking  _ smell  _ him.

“What?” Dean asks. These guys are fucking confusing, but also he gets that Y/N considers them friends.

Jo takes another whiff, closer to his nether regions and Dean feels a little violated. 

“You smell like sex.” The blond girl says and crinkles her nose.

His eyes widen before he frowns, “What?”

“I smell sex on people, call it a gift.” Jo says while Garth is laughing.

Y/N doesn’t say anything, only smirks at him.

“Great gift you have there, Jo.” He jokes half-heartedly and finally sits down to take a bite. 

“You did, didn’t you?” Jo keeps asking.

Jesus, the girl’s still standing right behind him and she can’t stop sniffling him. 

“For fuck’s sake, Jo, get off my back!” Dean growls, tries not to be too loud, “Go smell the princess here, see if she had sex!”

Jo chuckles, “If she had I wouldn’t even have to smell her. She would tell me every little detail.” 

“Every little what?” Dean can’t help but be loud.

“Well, have you?” Y/N elbows him in the arm and fucking winks. 

“Not that it’s any of you guys business,” Dean points a fry towards Garth who makes fucking chin hands. 

“Come on, it’s us. Who’s the lucky girl?” Jo asks.

“Yeah, who Dean?” Y/N is pouring gasoline on the fire. God, he would like to bend her over and spank her. She doesn’t need to join in and yet, she does. Super fucking annoying brat.

Instead of answering, he takes a big bite. It just seems easier to eat than to talk right now.

“Or the poor one,” Garth adds, “No offense, but you don’t seem to be one who would commit yourself to just one.”

“Full offense taken, thanks.” Dean chews his burger annoyingly. Dude can be glad that his burgers are fucking great. Garth dodged a punch right there, “You’re not helping your trusted family guy?” He turns to Y/N, notices that she’s laughing silently. 

“You stole my fries,” Y/N shrugs. 

Dean rolls his eyes and drops his burger back on the plate, “You guys make me sick,” He stands up and takes his plate, walks with it to the back, “I’m taking this downstairs.”

The laughter erupts as soon as he’s out and Dean shakes his head with a smirk on his way down the stairs.

  
  
  


*

  
  


He arrives in the dungeon — that’s what he likes to call it, because there are no fucking windows and every time he’s down here, he feels like he can’t fucking breathe — and walks in to see Nick sitting at a table and talking to Crowley. 

Fucking Nick, man. Not really what he needed right now. Not that he ever needs to see Nick, to be honest.

Dean’s appetite is gone, that much is clear. He places his plate on the table and sees the men looking back at him.

As soon as Nick spots Dean, the man stands up, and Dean notices that his hand is still in a cast. Nick doesn’t play around, instead, he walks hastily to Dean, draws his gun and points it at Dean’s forehead. Dean couldn’t even react fast enough. Mainly because he didn’t think that a family member would pull a gun at him. The only one who dared to do it was Y/N.

Dean stays mum, the only thing he does is stare at Nick whose finger is on the trigger.

“I should fucking put a bullet through your fucking skull,” The man says angrily, his nostrils are flaring, “For fucking humiliating me in front of everyone and breaking my fucking wrist!”

“Nick,” Crowley tries to intervene, “You don’t fucking shoot family. What would the boss say when he finds out you killed his consigliere?”

Nick chuckles.

“He would appoint me to that position,” The guy says, but he’s not looking at Crowley, instead, he still looks at Dean, “I take what should have been rightfully mine in the first place!”

Nick’s spitting his words, Dean can feel the droplets on his face. It’s fucking gross.

“Nick,” Crowley says and pulls his own gun, points it at Nick. 

Oh, great. Now there’s going to be a shooting? Where is Dean? In a fucking western movie? He would shake his head and roll his eyes if he could.

“You’re on his side, Crowley?” Nick shouts.

“What?” The short man says, “I’m not on anyone's side but Azazel’s you moron!” 

“Shut your mouth Crowley and mind your own business. Don’t you think I don’t know that you’ve been eyeing Benny’s position?”

_ Jesus _ , what did Dean get himself into? This whole fucking organization is held together by a thin fucking thread! People are jealous of each other instead of working together to bring this thing forward. They are seriously tearing it down from the inside and Dean thinks he doesn’t even have to be here because sooner or later it’s going to collapse on its own.

Dean knows what to do in those situations. He’s fucking trained, but he knows as much as everyone that Nick’s only bluffing. 

And Dean might be totally crazy but he doesn’t try to disarm Nick. Instead, he looks the man dead in the eye, glares at Nick with a certain level of arrogance and bravado that only Dean knows how to bring across. 

“Do it,” Dean says through gritted teeth, “I fucking dare you,”


	17. Chapter.16

_ “Do it, I fucking dare you.”  _

Dean swallows hard. He can hear his own heartbeat ringing in his ear, a loud staccato beat. It’s deafening. 

All of a sudden, everything feels like it’s on fire. He feels hot, a little nauseous too, but he doesn’t show it, can’t possibly let Nick know that Dean’s not as cool as he acts. Instead, he keeps staring coldly at the man pointing a gun to his head.

He has a freaking gun pointed at his head and weirdly, the only thing Dean can think about is how Y/N would be fucking mad at him if she’d see this. How she would be upset if he’d tell her about it after — if he gets out alive that is. Maybe, she’d give him a silent treatment, and this time, it’d probably be for longer than half a day, too. It’s weird that Dean’s last thoughts revolve around her when he should be shitting himself.

Out of the peripheral vision, Dean notices Crowley walking closer. The short man’s gun is still pointing at Nick and is now aiming at Nick’s head. It must be digging into the man’s skull as he flinches. If Crowley was to shoot Nick, it also means that the bullet would, by proxy, penetrate Dean’s own head if he doesn’t duck fast enough. It’s a sticky situation and there’s no winning in this. At least not for him.

Watching the scene unfold before him is the only thing Dean can do. He absolutely hates not being in control. Well, it’s different with Y/N. He likes to let her do her own thing, but work-wise and weapon-to-the-head-wise, he always has to be in control and he hates to admit it, but Dean has no control over what’s happening right now. In his defense, though, nobody could have prepared him for a raging Nick. He is sweating. Not much, but he is. Who wouldn’t when they are being held at gunpoint?

Dean swallows hard. He can feel his Adam’s apple bobbing.

Nick chuckles and licks his lips even with a gun to his head. What a fucking psychopath.

Crowley is breathing loudly through his nose. It makes a whistling sound. 

Even though everything feels too hot for his liking, Dean’s senses are sharp and somewhere in the distance, he can hear footsteps clicking away.

Dean holds his breath.

Suddenly, there’s a loud noise. It’s the door opening and the sound of footsteps resonates around the room. They stop when they see what’s happening.

“Oh come on boys. You can play some other time. There’s business to be talked through.” Benny’s voice cuts through the thick tension that’s hanging in the room like a heavy fog.

Nick’s lips curve into a crooked grin before he breathes out, low and only loud enough for Dean to hear him, “Pew,” 

Hot air hits Dean’s face, making him blink, cursing silently to himself.

The man lowers his gun back down, still with a stupid grin.

Crowley puts his own gun away, too.

Dean exhales. 

  
  


*

  
  


After the meeting, Dean sits down and pours himself a goddamn whiskey. He needs it. He wants to actually drown in it after what happened. 

He sips his drink and watches the men leave one by one. Leaving to go to other places, doing some other illegal things, maybe killing off some other folks. Dean knows about those tasks and what their work is, even though right now, he’d rather not.

The last one leaves and closes the door behind him while Dean sighs. Everybody is gone. 

All except for Benny.

Damn Benny, man.

Dean’s not in the mood for small talk. 

Thankfully, his phone rings. It’s their lawyer. He takes another big gulp of the amber liquid before he picks up. 

“Yeah,” Dean nods his head as he listens to the man on the other end of the line, “Send it and I’ll check with Y/N if the details match with what he agreed on.”

While he’s on the phone, he notices Benny looking at him and now he glances back, watches as Benny moves up the table, until the other tall guy sits down next to him. He wants too much to raise an eyebrow because Benny’s actually fucking grinning and it irritates the fuck out of Dean. Why is the dude still here anyway? His minions have all left the building. 

“Right, thanks, bye,” Dean finishes the call and hangs up and gulps down the rest of the burning liquor, makes a loud content sound when the burn travels down his throat.

Standing up, he buttons his suit jacket back up and is about to leave, when Benny chuckles loudly.

Dean turns around, raises one eyebrow while he pockets his phone back into his pants and addresses Benny, “What’s your problem?”

The other man shakes his head with a chuckle still on his lips as he lays back in the chair, “Nothing, it’s just—”

Benny starts to say, but then he stops.

The eyebrows on Dean’s forehead knots in the middle, as he realizes that Benny doesn’t continue. 

“What?” Dean asks while he takes a step closer to the man sitting on the chair.

Waving a hand, Benny still chuckles. He takes a breath before he speaks again, “You know, you think you’re so fucking slick,”

Dean squints his eyes.

“Yeah,” Benny snickers, “the princess?! Come on, you can’t tell me that you’re not fucking her!”

“I’m not,” Dean says, tries not to fucking act suspicious.

The sitting man looks up to him then, his mouth opens slightly and the corner of his lips tugs up into a joker-esque grin, “Liar,”

Dean swallows, his gaze is fixed on Benny. Just what the fuck is it with today? It seems like it’s getting worse and worse.

The dude is still sitting there, looking up to Dean with no care in the world, “If you know what’s good, Winchester, I’d leave. If I tell Azazel—”

Benny’s little speech gets interrupted by Dean bracing a hand on the table and one behind the chair the other man is sitting on as he bends down so his head is level with Benny’s. Dean knows that the dude is only bluffing. He must be bluffing, because Dean can’t imagine their relationship being discovered. He’s thorough. He’s always one fucking step ahead. 

“Yeah?” Dean whispers low. It’s more a growl, deep, frightening, “What you gonna tell him, huh? That you trafficked the girl?”

Dean counters Benny’s thread with one of his own but Dean’s also bluffing and he can’t show that he is. He hasn’t got enough info about what happened, not yet. By the look on the other man’s face, though, Dean notices that he hit the jackpot. 

Chuckling, Dean goes on, “You have fucking nothing on me, but I have everything on you, Lafitte,” He pauses, maybe for the dramatic effect, maybe also because he wants to read Benny and by the twitch of his lips, Dean knows that the man is close to bursting. Close to lash out at him, “Now, I don’t know what happened to the boy yet and I’ll find out. Believe me, I will. You think the boss will like this? Huh? And should I go down, you’re going right down with me, buddy, you understand?”

Standing up straight again, Dean reaches out a hand to pat Benny’s shoulder. The other man licks his lips and nods.

“Good,” Dean nods back, “Now get out of my fucking sight.” He growls some more just to intimidate him.

Benny’s not one to be easily intimidated, Dean knows and it’s weird that he doesn’t put up a fight, which again, leads Dean to think that the man has got something up his sleeves. It’s on Dean to find out what it is. 

The man stands up and brushes his shoulder against Dean’s in passing, shoving him to the side while he grumbles something. Dean turns around, watches Benny leave and closes the door with a bang. 

It’s then that Dean lets his shoulder slack down and he closes his eyes with a loud sigh. His hand comes up to his forehead, rubs at it, feeling the droplets of sweat around the hairline. 

_ Jesus fucking Christ! _

That was fucking close. And yeah, Dean could have left the room before Benny did, but he doesn’t trust that man. Doesn’t trust to turn his back on the dude, ever.

It’s all true what he told Benny. Dean just fucking knew that he must have sold the girl to a trafficker, could fucking see it in the other man’s expression, noticing Benny’s nostrils flare up, noticing a nervous twitch — albeit only slightly — on the one corner of his lips. An unschooled eye would look past it but not him. It’s as if Dean caught him with his hands in the cookie jar. If he finds out that the girl’s have been harmed by Benny or these fucking men, though, he’s going to rip their fucking lungs out. It won’t be pretty and he’s mad at himself for it. Mad that he lets his fucking heart rule his head in his whole operation. 

_ The pussy’s not worth it _ . Dean can still hear Naomi say. Well, it’s not all about the pussy anymore. Hasn’t been about that for a long time. Although, he must say, that that fucking pussy is worth so much more.

And yeah, Dean’s definitely curious and wants to know what the fuck happened to the boy, and he’s determined to find out. Maybe he can get them both back, can help them rebuild their lives without their parents. He’s sure that if he put in a good word, Naomi would be willing to help them out. If he doesn’t blow this whole thing up for all of them before this can end well, that is.

There are so many possibilities on what could have happened to the boy and thinking about it makes Dean head spin. None of the outcomes is a good one, and Dean's knees get weak. 

He reaches out a hand, braces it on the table while he pulls a chair from the table to sit down. Dean closes his eyes and leans back, presses his thumbs into his eye sockets. He just needs a minute before he can get up and go get Y/N.

The day had started okay. It had gotten better too — before it became this fucking mess. 

_ God, Y/N.  _

Dean’s eyes shot open. He jerks back to reality. Jerks back into the life he’s in now.

This life is no fucking way to live. More than anything now, he just wants to grab her and run away. Just like he told her earlier. But he just can’t. There’s a ton of unfinished business and more than ever, he wants to take them all down. All except for her. 

Getting back up with a grunt, Dean pushes the chair back to position before he takes another look around the empty room. He sees the little bar. It’s fucking tempting, he can’t lie about that. There’s also his half-eaten burger on top of the little table right by the door, next to the fucking wall Nick almost sank a bullet into his skull. 

Dean straightens himself and clears his throat, rubs a hand over his face and the corner of his mouth before he strides to the door. He hopes Y/N’s still here. Hopes that they didn’t harass her too much, but he also knows that she’s safe up there, knows that they wouldn’t dare do anything funny to her in her father’s restaurant.  _ You don’t shit where you eat _ . Even the stupidest fucking soldier knows that.

When he walks up to the restaurant, Y/N’s already gone. He guesses that she didn’t want to wait around, which is understandable. Dean so much wants to call her, text her, see if she’s okay, but he’s got another meeting and he’s running late already. Besides, he knows that she’s okay. He can feel it in his gut. He taught her how to shoot and he knows that she carries her gun with her at all times. It doesn’t make him any less worried though, it’s just, Dean really needs to get going if he wants to get back to her.

  
  
  


*

  
  


“You have any news?” Dean shouts as he barges into the warehouse. His own deep voice echoes off the dirty walls and immediately, his supervisor tears her eyes away from her laptop screen to look at him. 

He very well knows that he shouldn’t come unannounced, but he fucking needs answers and he’ll keep coming every day if he doesn’t fucking get the answers he’s looking for. It doesn’t mean though, that Dean will like the answer he’ll get, but that'll be something to worry about once he gets them. If someone can be adamant, it’s him.

She has one eyebrow cocked, the brows knotted in the middle. She’s not really happy he’s not following protocol but it’s really because Dean doesn’t fucking care about it.

Striding over to her desk, he comes to a halt but instead of taking a seat, he keeps on standing. He fears that if he sits down, he’ll stay for too long and he really wants to get back. The traffic to get out here was a real bitch.

Naomi’s still watching him as her finger presses enter on her laptop and she turns it around so Dean can watch the screen. 

“Is this her?” His supervisor asks, while she stands up herself. Naomi doesn’t like people talking down to her. 

He takes a look at the screen. Sees images of young girls in the background in black and white, sees the girl in the front, long brown hair, big tired eyes. It’s her. 

“Yeah, where did you get that from?”

“Trafficking auction.” 

“Fuck,” Dean curses under his breath. So it’s all true. He doesn’t know if he feels happy knowing that he has been right all along. No, he definitely isn’t happy about that. He tears his eyes away from the screen because that picture just hurts his heart too much. Staring back at his supervisor, he asks, “Who’s auction is it? That Marv guy?”

Naomi shakes her head, “No. We’re still finding out who’s behind it. The guy’s new, started only a couple months ago.”

“Get the girl out and all the other girls too, while you’re at it,” Dean growls. 

His supervisor snorts, “As if it’s that easy.” 

“Make it fucking easy or else I march in there myself. You just have to give me the address!” He bangs his fist on the table, making Naomi flinch.  _ Jesus _ , he’s so fucking angry and he doesn’t even know why. 

“We’re on it, Dean. It’s none of your concern really. You just go do your thing and I’ll update you.” Naomi says as she turns the laptop back in her direction. 

His heart’s still racing, his hands are balled into fists. Dean swallows and tries to calm himself down with even breathing. When he looks up again, he’s a little calmer, his voice is less loud, “And the boy?”

Naomi shakes her head, “Nothing yet.”

“Fuck.”

  
  
  


____________________________________________________

  
  
  


Y/N arrives at home and changes into something more comfortable as she doesn’t have anything scheduled for today and she’s really looking forward to having a quiet night in. Bela had called earlier, asking if she has time because the other girl feels like they haven’t caught up in so long and who is Y/N to deny her friend. After all, Bela’s still a friend, right? They hardly speak anymore as both of them have their own responsibilities to attend to. Plus, she misses some company and her only other friends are manning the restaurant for her. 

And Dean— 

— well, Dean grabbed his plate and went down and hadn’t come up almost two hours later, and she didn’t want to stick around and wait because that would have been too obvious since she really had nothing to do at the restaurant anymore than sitting there and sip her coffee. 

It’s now 8 PM, it's been five hours since she saw Dean last and she was so close to texting him but thought better of it. Dean absolutely doesn’t like her texting him, said she distracts him if she does because he always thinks the worst and well, from the way she teased him, it’s fair of him to think that.

She does wonder what Dean would think about her having Bela over. Dean’s not fond of her friend, she knows that much and after what she witnessed with Bela, Benny and Nick, she’s a little suspicious too. Of course, she won’t tell Bela anything about what's going on between her and Dean. Mainly because she doesn’t know it herself, to be honest. She likes him. Very much. She likes how caring he is, likes that he makes her feel like she’s  _ someone _ . 

Zipping up her hoodie, she hears her phone ringing and vibrating. She walks out of her walk-in closet to pick up the device from the nightstand and smiles when she sees who it is.

“Hey,” She breathes out and lets herself drop to her bed.

“Hey,” Dean says, his voice deep and warm. She can’t see him, but she can  _ feel _ that he’s smiling. “Did you get home alright?”

“Yeah,” Y/N answers, “Why?”

“Nothing, just wanted to make sure.” He murmurs and she can’t fucking see but she can imagine him blushing. 

He always does when his words come out a murmur. Dean clears his throat, and that’s also an indication that he’s been blushing. What she would give to see it live. A lot.

“Listen, I’ll be home in a hour. Come meet me in my office, I have to give you the contracts with the Romans to look over.”

She grins, “Contract? Is that our new code word?”

Dean laughs, that bright laugh she’s come to love. 

“Baby, as much as I want us to have a code word, I think it should be something better than ‘ _ contract’ _ .”

“Fine,” She groans, “so, no sexy time then?”

“You’re sore.”

Well, he’s not wrong, but she feels much better already.

“Just do what I say, okay?”

She sighs, showing him that she’s less than happy about it, “Right,”

“Bye, baby.”

Her heart takes a leap hearing him say the word with such warmth and she smiles, “Bye, Dean.”

  
  


*

  
  


Y/N’s sitting on his desk, her feet dangling in the air as she waits for Dean, having shown up here precisely after an hour had passed. He’d said that it’s going to be an hour and now one hour and two minutes have passed and he’s still not here.

Another five minutes. That’s how much she’s willing to give him before she’ll go back to her room. She hates it when people aren’t on time, a trait she’s got from her father. Even though it’s Dean, she knows how busy he is and how his schedule can change last minute, but still. If someone’s going to be late, they should have the audacity to call and tell that they’re running late. Dean’s no exception.

She wishes she had taken took her phone with her, but in all the excitement, she left it in her room, so actually, if Dean did call, she wouldn’t know, but she’s too lazy to make her way back, and what if she leaves and misses him because he’s on his way here? Staring at the clock on the wall, she watches the minutes ticking by. Only half a minute left.

Twenty seconds.

Sixteen seconds.

The knob rattles and opens up to Dean.

Her hands are braced next to her legs on his desk and she turns her head to look at him. Dean looks absolutely exhausted, she can tell. It’s the way his shoulder slump down, the crease on his forehead, the bags beneath his eyes. 

“You’re late,” She says and watches him as he closes the door before he walks over to her.

His expression is blank and she’s worried that maybe she annoyed him by pointing out that he’s late. 

Dean doesn’t speak, he doesn’t even look at her. It’s as if he’s still in his thoughts. He drops his briefcase next to her thigh and sits down on his chair before he looks up to her.

His hands are placed on the side of her thighs and he rubs up and down, “I know, ‘m sorry,”

She dares to stick out a hand, fingers thread through his hair and he leans in, closes his eyes for a brief moment before he lets his head drop to her thigh and buries his face into the cleft there.

“I’m so tired,” He mumbles, both his hands come up to wrap themselves around her.

Stroking his head with both her hands, she lets her fingertips massage his scalp and Dean seems to enjoy it because he starts to hum and burying his face deeper into her thighs. It’s getting heavier too, as if he’s letting go of everything and giving in to her touch.

“Rough day?” Y/N asks him, and Dean takes a deep breath in between the cleft of her thighs. She wonders how he gets enough oxygen there. 

He turns his head then and exhales loudly, “You could say that.”

“Is there any way I can make it better?” 

Dean moves his head again, leaves his chin on her knees to look up at her. His forehead creasing, he looks absolutely adorable and she just can’t stop running her hand through his hair. 

“Oh, you’re already helping,” He says and it’s the first time he smiles since he stepped foot through the door. The crinkles around his eyes deepen, his teeth are white. The light is too dim to make out his eyes or his freckles and that’s a shame, really. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” He nods. 

“I could show you my tits, if that would cheer you up?” She grins that mischievous grin she knows she has and Dean laughs, throwing his head back and all. It’s cute. The sound’s loud in the room. It makes her crave for more because she can never get enough of it. 

When Dean regains his composure, he untangles his hands from around her hips and pushes his chair back. Reaching out, he waits until she moves to stand. 

“C’mon,” He urges her to take his hand and as soon as she does, he pulls her into his lap. 

Y/N drops into it with a squeal, “Dean!”

“Shhhh,” He hushes her with a grin and maneuvres her around so she’s sitting sideways on his lap while he has his arms protectively around her. 

Dean kisses her forehead and she leans her face on his shoulder, inches closer to the crook of his neck, breathes in the smell of him. 

“We shouldn’t,” Her voice comes out a whisper and even though she says that they shouldn’t, she can’t force herself to move. How can she when that’s the place she feels the safest? When that’s the place where she thinks she belongs?

“Just a little while longer,” Dean says and he tightens his grip around her, determined not to let her go. She hopes he never will. 

They stay tangled a little while longer, even though they both know how risky it is and they didn’t talk. They just enjoy the silence together and she can’t say that she doesn’t like that too. The way that there doesn’t have to be words. The way silence feels comfortable with him. 

When she hears commotion outside in the hallway, she gets off his lap and that’s when Dean lets her. It’s like they both know that their time here is limited, and know that they can’t really be what they want to be in the walls of her own house. It’s kinda frustrating, really. 

She stands back up and Dean gets up with her, pins her against his heavy desk and cages her in with both his hands braced on the desk. Dean grins before he steals a kiss, and then another. His lips are warm and soft against her own. He deepens the kiss and she parts too easily for him, letting his tongue map out the inside of her mouth and god, she’s getting all tingly down there. 

There are sounds of footsteps outside and Dean pulls back, not without sucking her bottom lips between his own. He pecks her again, before he parts to look at her. His lips are glistening in the light, hers must look the same. 

“Jesus, can’t get enough of you,” Dean mumbles, making her cheeks hotter than they already are as he dives in again, kisses her mouth, the corner of her lips before he goes to her cheek and makes his way down her jaw to lick and suck at her throat. Her one hand fists in his hair, nails digging into his scalp slightly, not sure herself if she’s urging him on or if she wants to stop him because they can get fucking caught.

Y/N giggles as Dean sucks his way up her throat again, his scruff scratches at her skin and Dean grins too when he sprays kisses around her face. 

“Can’t fucking resist you,” He mumbles to peck her nose. 

“So, come on Dean, what about the contract?” She’s still giggling because he attacks the throat on her other side. 

Dean stills. It’s as if he only realizes it now that he  _ really  _ should not be doing what he does. Especially not here.

He stands up straight and looks at her, shrugging as he goes, “The contract can wait. Just wanted to see you.”

His one hand goes to the back of her head, hands spanning wide over her face, his thumb caresses her cheek as he bends down to kiss her one more time. 

“What are you up to tonight?”

“Bela’s coming over.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” She nods, “She asked if we can have a movie night.” 

Dean’s thumb brushes over her wet lips, as he stares at her and she has a hard time finding her footing because she gets so easily lost in his eyes. What is he fucking doing to her?

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell.” She says as a way of reassurance. 

He chuckles, “No, I know you won’t. I just want you to be careful, okay?” His hand goes below her chin, pointing it up so she can look him in the eye, “Don’t be too late, I need you early in the morning, fresh and sharp.” 

“Sure, daddy,” She groans playfully and it’s only after the word has slipped out of her mouth that she realizes how wrong it sounds, so she clasps her hand over her mouth. 

Dean grins with an amused look on his face, “What was that?” 

“Nothing,” She quickly answers and looks away. 

His hand finds her chin again, “Hey, baby, look at me,”

Y/N does, albeit reluctantly. Her cheeks feel as if they are on fire. 

He’s still grinning stupidly and god, can he just not? Dean clears his throat, “Well, do you want me to be your daddy, huh?” 

She rolls her eyes at him, tries to change the subject, “Why do you want me fresh and sharp in the morning?”

He releases her chin and unpacks his briefcase, takes out a pile of papers and drops it heavily onto his desk, “Because we have to go over the contract.”

“Contract, huh? And the other contract?” 

“First work and then play, Y/N.”

She groans, “Fine! I hate it when you’re all professional.”

“Why?” Dean raises an eyebrow. 

“Because you call me by my name.” 

“Ah,” He chuckles but he doesn’t say anything more to it, instead he flips his wrist, “When’s Bela going to be here?” 

Her gaze travels from Dean’s face to the clock at the wall, “Ten minutes.” 

“Right,” He says and takes a step closer. Her heart thumps in her chest, not knowing what Dean has in mind because she thinks that ten minutes doesn’t seem to be enough for any activities involving him. 

Just when Dean’s about to kiss her, there are more footsteps outside the door that she can hear. It sounds like people are running around wildly, and it’s far from the usual happenings around here.

There’s a frantic knock at the door that makes Y/N and Dean jump in the opposite direction of each other as a precaution to not look like they’re standing too close. 

“What?” Dean calls out annoyingly.

“Winchester! The King’s in the Lazaretto, he wants you and his daughter there, we can’t find Y/N! Her phone’s in her room but she’s not there! You didn’t pick up either!”

_ Lazaretto _ .

That’s the special hospital they have set up. It’s a whole functioning hospital building. Building might be a little exaggerated, but they have four floors of hospital rooms and beds and two fully equipped operating rooms. The only difference from an actual hospital is that the patients are all kinds of shady and illegal and the doctors are paid a large sum to be employed there and of course to look the other way. 

They both look at each other and it’s the second time she clasps her hand over her mouth. 

“I guess your movie night will have to wait,” Dean says as he takes her hand to lead her to the door.


	18. Chapter.17

The King’s in the hospital. Azazel’s in fucking Lazaretto.

Dean’s hand is tight around her and pulls her along and she follows. He would have loved to just wrap an arm around her, wants to stop the trembling he feels radiating from her, but he fucking can’t. He thinks it’s really fucked up that he’s not allowed to console and comfort someone he fucking cares about. 

Her hands are usually cold, but now they’re freezing and shivering in his, and Dean’s feelings are all over the place. The King’s in hospital, that’s actually great. Fucking amazing. But also she’s so shaken up about it and he gets it. Azazel is the only family she knows. He’s her father. The one who cares about her. At least Azazel’s good at pretending to. Yes, Dean gets that she’s upset, gets that she’s afraid to lose someone that seems to be the only constant in her life because people tend to come and go quite frequently. Dean knows that feeling too well. The relationship he had with his father growing up wasn’t any different. He strived to be what his dad wanted him to be, tried his best to please his old man, but it was never enough. It never would be. It took Dean a while to realize that his Dad’s behavior was toxic and that Dean doesn’t owe him a fucking thing. It took him a lot longer to finally cut his Dad out of his life. 

His thumb circles on her skin, trying to calm her down.

Opening the door with his free hand, Kenny’s standing outside. His face is a little pale and there’s a frown on the boy’s forehead. He’s one of the young soldiers. Soldiers-in-training, one might say. Some kid from another soldier who wants to keep the family tradition and get all his sons to work for the Lehne’s. Stupid fucking family.

Dean nods at him and the boy nods back. If Kenny’s stunned to see him emerge from his office with Y/N’s hand in his, the boy doesn’t let on. Not that Dean really cares because he’s not letting go and let her deal with this alone. He thinks she doesn’t care either, because she’s reached his side, her body pressed against his as the hand that he’s not holding grips around his arm, nails tugging at his suit jacket. It feels as if she wants to try to climb into him, tries to bury herself inside and Dean would just about give up everything to be able to wrap his fucking arms around her and let her disappear inside of him for comfort.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Dean clears it before he opens his mouth to speak, “What happened?” 

Images of a bloody Azazel is flashing in front of his lids as Dean closes his eyes. He can only imagine what Y/N must be feeling right now.

He doesn’t just stop and stand there, though. Time might be crucial and Dean walks along the hallway, dragging a speechless Y/N behind him, making Kenny have to catch up on them. 

The boy scrambles to keep up, clears his throat too, “We don’t really know, sir.” 

Of course he doesn’t. Dean’s not surprised. Kenny’s probably only been told to get them. Nothing more, nothing less. A good obedient soldier. Dean can’t help but feel a little sorry for the boy. 

As they reach the foyer, Dean nods his head and tilts it just a little to the boy, “Who’s with him?” 

“Only Gog and Magog, sir,” Kenny answers as they make their way down the steps. 

Gog and Magog. Azazel’s personal bodyguards. Very tall, very big, and very much intimidating, but dumber than a box of rocks. Dean wonders why Azazel needs two of them. Wonders why he needs bodyguards that are dumb as fuck, but it’s not Dean’s place to advise him on that part. 

They reach the car and Dean opens up the passenger side, helps Y/N in. She hasn’t said a word since, but there’s a crease between her brows that won’t go away. He wishes he could ease them out, wishes he could make things better. 

He closes the door when she’s tucked in and turns back to Kenny. The boy looks distressed, as if he doesn’t really know what to do and is waiting for orders. Of course he is. That’s the only thing people can do around here. Following fucking orders and he doesn’t know where the fuck Benny is so it’s on him to tell the boy what he should be doing. People are scrambling about upstairs, probably equally distressed, but Dean has got no fucking time nor patience for that right now. 

Even though Dean is annoyed with the whole situation, he still takes his time to place both hands on Kenny’s shoulders and stares the boy down. Not to scare him, more as a reassurance.

Kenny gulps. 

“Have you informed Benny?” He asks the boy in a low tone, a little authoritative because that’s what Kenny’s used to. 

“Yes, sir. He’s on the way here.” Kenny’s voice is meek. 

Dean pats the boy’s shoulders, “Good.” He squeezes them to gain Kenny’s attention, because the boy’s gaze starts to drift off downwards, “What I want you to do, Kenny, is to call the two idiot twins and tell them that I’m bringing Y/N to Azazel.”

There’s a smirk on Kenny’s lips at the mention of dumb twins. Everyone seems to know how fucking dumb Gog and Magog are. 

He smiles with Kenny before he goes on, “Next, I want you to get a hold of Bela. She’s probably already on her way here. They were supposed to meet. But don’t tell her where we’re going. Can you do that, Ken?” 

“Sure,” Kenny nods his head.

“Good,” Dean nods and pats Kenny’s shoulder one last time before he makes his way to the driver’s side. “As you were,” He nods to the boy before getting in. 

  
  
  


*

  
  


The silence in the car is deafening. She hasn’t spoken a word and neither does Dean. The only thing he can do is to hold her hand while he drives towards the Lazaretto. 

The Lazaretto doesn’t look like a hospital at all from the outside. It looks like any other building with shops on the ground floor, as it probably should be, so as not to raise suspicion that mobsters get patched up here. The entrance to get to the criminal’s hospital is through the underground garage and Dean drives in there. It’s his first time here as well. 

Upon arrival, they already see Gog — or was it Magog? — Dean doesn’t know. Could never tell the two idiots apart.

The bodyguard waits by the door Dean assumes opens up to the elevator that would take them to the shady hospital. His hands are crossed on his chest, looking grim. When Dean stops right in front of it, Gog opens the door to help Y/N out and ushers them quickly inside and into an elevator that’s already been waiting. Kenny did his job, then. 

Dean takes Y/N from Gog when they arrive at the floor. Her hand is back in his, and he thinks it’s where it belongs. The elevator opens up to something that looks remarkably like a real hospital. The flooring, the lighting and not to mention, the smell. He always hated the smell of hospitals, always tried to get out as soon as possible whenever he had to visit one. 

“What happened?” Dean asks Gog as he leads them down the hallway, and Dean doesn’t really know if it’s insensitive of him to ask right in front of her, but he’d rather know what sight will greet him so that he can shield her when it’s needed. 

“Nothing major,” The bodyguard replies and that’s when Dean feels her hand relaxing in his. 

She squeezes his palm. It’s the first time he gets a response out of her since they have gotten the news and Dean turns his head to look at her, sees a weary smirk on her face, sees the color slowly returning to her cheeks. Y/N hesitates, hands already fisting around the fabric of his suit jacket and he knows that she wants to hug it, wants to feel close to at least somebody when she has to face her dad and god fucking knows how much Dean wants to give that to her, but he also knows that he fucking can’t. She seems to know that too, because her hand releases his jacket, goes back to her side. The only place they remain connected are their hands. She squeezes him once more, as if to say that she knows, as if to say that she understands that he can’t give her more than that. Dean squeezes back and rubs a circle on her skin with his thumb.

Gog rounds them up another corner and Dean sees it, sees Magog waiting outside of the room, standing the way his brother stood in the garage just before. When they get closer to the other big bodyguard, he opens the door for them to enter. 

The light is dim inside. There’s a sound of a machine that beeps occasionally. Dean closes the door behind him as Y/N rushes to be at her father’s side. 

Azazel looks fragile, exhausted. His face is pale and he seems to have aged incredibly fast since Dean started here. There are infusion tubes sticking out of the back of his right hand. Dean notices as the King reaches it out to touch his daughter. 

Dean watches them, watches her approach. She takes her father’s hand into hers, holding it tight. A little too tight maybe, because the man flinches. Dean had to suppress a smirk at that. 

“What happened?” She asks, her voice a little strained. It’s the first time she’s spoken. It sounds beautiful. Dean realizes he has missed it. There’s still the crease between her eyebrows that Dean hasn’t had a chance to even it out yet.

“Nothing bad, princess. I just had some cramps and collapsed. It’s nothing to be worried about,” Azazel chuckles, but all the people in the room know, including Azazel himself, that it’s not a minor thing. Dean had literally watched him wasting away since he had got here. There’s something going on and he has to find out what it is, if not for him then for her. 

Maybe it’s also a little selfish, yeah. If Azazel dies, it’ll be harder for him to prove himself to the next one that would take the throne and they all know how much Benny hates his guts. Dean can not and will not let it happen.

“Will you be okay?” Y/N asks her father, her eyes inspecting the man’s hand, trailing along the tubes up to where a bag of clear liquid is hanging from a hook. 

Azazel attempts to smile. It doesn’t really work, “Yeah, about two more bags of liquid and I’ll probably be ready to go back.”

“Good,” She nods her head. She doesn’t cry, is holding herself together remarkably well. She drops her father’s hand back on the bed before she swats at the old man’s chest, making Azazel groan out in pain, “How dare you scare me this way!”

Dean holds back the smirk that wants to spread into a grin. That’s his fucking girl, alright? She really is a feisty thing and Dean’s getting a little reminder to never cross her. He dreads the day he has to tell her the truth though, but that’s a worry for some other time. 

“Y/N, calm down,” Her father says hoarsely, “I’m still alive! Aren’t you happy?” 

She crosses her arms over her chest, and looks down at her father, “Still, you could have just called me yourself if it’s not that bad.”

“I tried,” The man sighs with a knowing look to both of them.

Oh shit, Azazel probably really did and perhaps he tried to call Dean too, but he left his phone in the car and she left it in her room. That’s fucking amateur of him and he hopes it doesn’t blow up in his face.

“Both of you,” Azazel says and trails his eyes from his daughter to Dean. 

“Yeah, sir, I’m sorry,” He says it loud and clear, tries to not sound like he’s intimidated, which he actually is but Dean’s good at hiding, “It’s my fault. I was in a rush and left my phone in the car. I went over the Roman’s contract with your daughter, sir.” He tries to explain, and is surprised by himself that he didn’t start to stammer.

The King’s eyes are fierce on Dean’s and he’s still so fucking annoyed that he can’t fucking read the man. It’s really the only person Dean can’t really get through. 

Dean swallows. 

Instead of replying to him, Azazel turns his gaze back to Y/N, “Princess, can you give Dean and me a minute to talk?”

She hesitates and looks back at Dean. Does she notice that he’s getting just a little hotter under the collar? Does she see the sweat beading on his hairline? He hopes she doesn’t because if she doesn’t, Azazel most likely won’t either. Her eyes try to find something and that’s when Dean realizes that she wants him to tell her if that’s okay. If it’s okay to leave him and her dad alone. Dean blinks, because that’s the only thing he’s capable of doing without raising any suspicion. 

“‘K,” Y/N mumbles and retreats, walking past Dean and he knows that Azazel’s eyes are on them so he tries not to look at her, fails too, because he can’t  _ not  _ look at her as she walks past him and out the door. 

Dean turns his face to meet the man’s steely gaze. 

“I like how you treat her,” Azazel says and that’s when Dean relaxes. He exhales, lets out a copious amount of air as subtlety as possible. 

“I don’t treat her any differently, sir,” Dean replies as he walks closer to where his boss is lying.

“Exactly,” Azazel breathes out, “That’s what I’m saying. You don’t treat her like the others. You make her feel like she’s someone, I think that’s good.” 

Did Dean hear it right? Did the King just compliment him? 

“Thanks,” The weary man whispers, “At least I know someone is going to take care of her when I’m gone.”

“Oh, don’t say that, sir. I haven’t spoken to the doctors yet, but from what I can tell, you’re living and breathing, so we take it one step at a time.”

The King chuckles, “The doctors haven’t found anything. I only have to stay overnight, tomorrow I’ll be as good as new.”

“See? We’ll figure out what it is, okay? I would rather have you as my boss than Benny.” Dean almost sounds whiny, he knows, can’t really help it. 

Not that Azazel is a bad boss, at least he’s the only guy who trusts Dean. Trusts him enough to be around his daughter, to take care of her. Dean takes that. It’s not really a win, but it’s a good step in the right direction.

The King’s smirking at Dean’s whining, “Yeah, Benny. I still don’t know what’s up with him. He’s changed and that’s not a good sign, is it?”

Dean doesn’t say anything, but he’s glad Azazel noticed it too.

“I feel like my people are slipping away from me, Dean,” The old man sounds weary and he turns his head to the window. The view is of other skyscrapers, little red and yellow lights blinking in the distance. When Dean opens his mouth to speak, Azazel cuts in, “But it’ll change soon.”

Dean nods. He doesn’t really understand what he means by it, is a little afraid to ask, if he’s honest.

“Can you send my daughter in?” The King asks, and Dean knows when he’s politely been asked to leave so he does just that. He needs to have a word with the doctor anyway.

  
  
  


____________________________________________________

  
  
  


Dean’s driving, but he looks over to her, speaking to her for the first time after what happened. His brows are furrowed and she knows it’s because he’s worried about her. 

“What did your dad tell you?”

She smirks, and leans closer to him, smells the faint traces of cologne that’s still on his suit, smells his sweat, his musk. Smells him.

Opening her mouth, she whispers, “If I tell you that, I’d have to kill you.”

Dean tilts his head to her, squints his eyes before he rolls them and she’s laughing at that gesture. It’s the little things, really. Instead of staying annoyed at her, Dean holds out his palm, waits so long until she places her hand in his. He smiles when she does it, threads his fingers through hers and it makes her heart doing weird somersaults. 

“Gave me a list of things to do,” She groans out playfully and Dean chuckles with her. Still smiling, she looks at him, “Told me that I should make sure you treat me to somewhere nice on my birthday. Told me to stick to you because you’re one of the good ones. One that he trusts.” She says 

He snorts with a shake of his head, “I’m not a good man,” 

“You’re better than anyone else,” She answers simply.

Still shaking his head, he darts his tongue out, licking his lips, his grip on her hand tightens, “Baby, you deserve something better.”

“I don’t want something better.”

The headshake stays as he drives them over a bridge. She recognizes it. Knows that they aren’t heading home. 

Dean seems to know what she’s thinking because he squeezes her hand, “Just for a while. I need to clear my head before I go back into the madhouse.”

She couldn’t agree more. She doesn’t want to go back yet either.

  
  


*

  
  


Y/N’s waiting, laying on his bed, and zaps through the TV channels as Dean takes a shower. Apparently, he had a rough day and needed to shower it off. She wasn’t allowed to join, and pouted, which prompted him to bite on her bottom lip so hard she started to bleed. He sucks it right in after, soothing the pain. 

He came back into the bedroom dressed in a new shirt but still wearing his slacks, and she’s almost disappointed that he didn’t walk in here half-naked. 

Dean flops down onto the bed, nudges his face to her stomach. Her hand goes to his head, threads her finger through his damp hair and he seems to be enjoying it. 

After a while, Dean tilts his head so that one side of his face is still on her stomach as he looks up at her, “I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, because, you know I do. I just want you to be sure of it and it’s something you can’t take lightly. We’re playing with fire, have been for quite a while. Benny’s already on my case, because somehow he knows.”

“Knows what?”

“That we’re fucking,” Dean murmurs his words. 

“He’s wrong,” She smirks and Dean’s eyebrows are in knots, “Yeah, we’re doing other things too.”

There’s an audible groan that leaves his throat and he buries his face back in her stomach.

“Did he tell you that he knows?” Y/N asks, while she threads her fingers through the thick of his hair.

“No,” He breathes out. Warm breath hits the fabric of her shirt, she can feel it on her skin beneath, “I think he’s bluffing, but we should be careful.”

“So coming here is super careful.” 

Dean sighs, “It’s not, but I’m not giving this up.” 

Y/N doesn’t really know if he’s talking about the apartment or about what they have. Maybe he means both. She secretly hopes he means her.

He pushes himself from her with a grunt, comes closer and she spreads her arms, letting him lay his head on her chest while he wraps an arm around her body.

“I thought you love taking risks,” It was more a statement than an accusation or anything, really. 

Chuckling, he tilts his face up to face hers, his scruff scratching along the fabric of her shirt, “You’re really using my words against me now?” 

She shrugs with a cocky grin before she lowers her face to meet his lips and Dean cranes his neck, meets her halfway. The hand that’s around her body goes up to her neck, draws her closer. 

His kisses are careful, soft, tongue teasing with hers while his hand on the back of her neck wanders down to her back to manhandle her around so she’s laying on top of him. She lets out a playful shriek which Dean swallows. 

He turns them around again and it’s really easy with him. She likes how they fit together, likes how easy it is for him to manhandle her around, likes his kisses. She likes him, and all of a sudden, the thought of running away with him doesn’t sound so bad anymore. Sure, she’ll miss her father, she cares deeply about him, but she thinks when the right time comes, she’d be willing to risk it all. She just has to be sure that Dean’s really in it. Has to be sure that he’s here to stay.

Dean’s on top of her now, elbows braced on either side of her head, his hands on the top of her head, stroking her hair back while placing little kisses on her forehead, her nose, her cheeks. 

“You’re the riskiest thing I’ve ever done — quite literally,” He parts from her to look down with a tired chuckle, half being serious but also half proud of his own attempt at joking, “But I think everything worth having requires risks.”

She frowns and he bends down, places a kiss in between her eyebrows, before he looks at her again. 

“You think I’m worth it?”

“Every. Damn. Thing.” Dean mumbles, while he sprays kisses on her face after every word and she has to giggle at that because his scruff tickles her skin.

God, she enjoys being with him so much. She’s really falling in love, isn’t she? At least it’s not a feeling she knows. She never felt anything like it. Not even with Adam. Y/N wonders if he feels the same. She’s too afraid to ask, though, fearing that it would weigh down whatever is happening right now.

“Come on,” Dean jerks his head and scrambles off her. He reaches out, pulls her up with him, “We should go back before they put a bounty on my head.”

“Ugh, I don’t wanna,” She’s still sitting on the bed, pouting as she says it, crosses her arms over her chest too. It’s true. She really doesn’t want to go back home. 

He chuckles as he squats down in front of her, places a kiss square on her pout, “Baby, I gotta take you back. We’ll have a whole day to ourselves soon,” 

Narrowing her eyes, she looks at him, “Where are you taking me?”

Dean smiles, his teeth white. The smile reaches his eyes, the crinkles around it deepen, “I know just the place,”

  
  


____________________________________________________

  
  


“I’ve heard that before,” Y/N narrows her eyes, “I swear, if that place is home, I’m gonna crush your balls.”

His head tilts to the side, eyes widening and he’s about to say something when suddenly, his phone starts to vibrate in his pants pockets. Dean fishes it out, sees that it’s Azazel. 

Picking it up, he holds out his index finger to her lips, shushing her, “Sir?”

She grins as he opens her mouth anyway and Dean is having a hard time following the conversation. 

“Yeah,” He breathes into the phone while she sucks in his finger, tongue twirling around the tip. 

This fucking girl.

“I’ll be right there.” Dean nods his head, and hangs up.

“Goddammit, Y/N!” He growls, before he takes his finger away and crashes his mouth to hers and she giggles into the kiss. He gets more annoyed at that, “Gotta go back to see your dad. He wants to see me. You can’t give me a boner.” Dean sucks in her lip and pecks her nose, before he pushes himself up, “Come on, gotta get you home first.”

“Can’t I come?”

“He said he only wanted to see me.”

Well, Dean can’t say he’s not nervous. What makes the King want to see him so suddenly right after they just talked?

She’s pouting again, but Dean ignores it, turns around and lowers himself, “Come on, piggyback to the car, huh?”

There’s a squeal of delight in his back before she jumps up and wraps her arms around his neck. On the way down, she presses her face to his, kisses his cheek.

It’s the little things like these that keeps him going, really.

  
  


*

  
  


He parks in the garage and sees one of the bodyguards waiting for him. Dean gets out and walks closer, spreading his arms, “What is i—”

The rest of the sentence got stuck in his throat when he was swung around, his face pressed against the cold concrete of the garage wall. Dean grunts and struggles, but there’s no chance he can get out of the death grip. 

“Well, it’s nice to see you too,” He says instead, his body giving up the struggle. 

Gog (or was it Magog? He doesn’t fucking care, really) pulls him away from the door, one hand on the back of Dean’s neck and gets into the elevator. There’s no answer from the bodyguard, not that Dean expected any. 

He’s pushed to Azazel’s room where Gog makes him sit down in the chair and Dean does so with another audible grunt and then he feels it, feels the cold metal of a barrel digging into his scalp by Magog. 

_ For fuck’s sake! _

It’s the second time in twelve hours that Dean has had a loaded gun pointed in his fucking face. He needs a fucking break! It was so good before, too. He dropped her off, stole a kiss right in the house’s own garage. It should have been something that keeps him going, something that should tie him over until they’d see each other next, and now this happens. 

Dean’s eyes are focused on the King, still vulnerable in a hospital bed as he turns to Dean. 

Azazel opens his mouth to speak. It’s a little hoarse, a little slurred. Dean guesses that he has gotten a round of drugs because they probably found out what it is that caused the old man to be where he is. 

“Thallium, does it ring a bell, Dean?” 

“Uh, no?” Dean’s frowns, “Why?”

The man chuckles, “Because it was you who suggested the doctors look into poison in my blood. I’m not dumb, you know?”

Magog’s barrel digs deeper into his scalp, making Dean tilt his head.

It’s then the penny drops in Dean’s brain, “Oh, you think it was me who poisoned you!” 

“Bingo,” Azazel snorts, “Why else would you know what they should look for?”

Dean swallows. Yeah, he’s not supposed to mention Bobby, but how else can he explain? And he thinks Azazel’s brain is not really working properly because how dumb would it be for Dean to rat himself out to the fucking doctor!

Lifting his arms up in a peaceful gesture, Dean clears his throat, “I told them that they should look out of signs of poisoning, because I know these signs. Listen, it wasn’t me and you know it. You can see it in my eyes, I know you can.” 

Azazel raises one eyebrow, seemingly doubting Dean still.

“I swear, it wasn’t me, Azazel. Why would I do it? Why would I give myself away like that? I’m not a fucking rookie! And besides, why would I want anyone else to be my boss, you know how much Benny hates my fucking guts!”

The King smacks his lips, tongue darting out to wet his lips, before biting on it as he turns away to think. Dean hopes that the fucking drugs didn’t cloud the man’s mind.

“I’m telling you the truth, Azazel and you know it,” Dean’s voice is firm, he doesn’t let the gun distract him, “I have an idea who it could be. If you would take the time to hear me out on my plan to get them, that’d be great.”

The old man turns his head back to look at Dean. His eyelids are heavy and it’s like he’s fighting to keep them open. The King nods his head, “Go on, I’m listening.”

Dean hears the safety being clicked back in place by Magog as the bodyguard pulls the gun. A sense of relief washes over him and Dean exhales loudly.


	19. Chapter.18

Two days later, Dean knocks at her door. It’s only 6.00 AM, but he’d rather get things going early because it means that he’ll have more time with her. 

Azazel stayed in the hospital a day longer than he had to because they ran some tests, but other than that, he’s up and about again, being his ruthless self. The usual, really. In fact, he’s doing so great that he arranged a family dinner for his daughter’s birthday tonight. And maybe that’s why Dean’s standing outside of her room at fucking 6.00 AM. It’s mainly because he’s selfish and wants her to himself for as long as he can before he has to take the princess back into her golden cage by 8.00 PM. 

Fourteen hours. They’ll have fourteen hours to themselves. Somehow it’s a long time, yet it doesn’t feel it’s going to be long enough. 

Y/N doesn’t open up and Dean waits. 

Another two minutes pass. He knocks again. There are going to be people waking up soon, walking about and Dean wants to avoid that. It’s not like he didn’t have permission, but he’s sure that there’s going to be questions about why he’s knocking frantically at her door should someone see him. Maybe even more questions, because people are nosy and Dean’s not really in the mood to answer them all.

Lifting his arm, he brings his knuckle down on the wood. Only once, because the door flies open, and there’s a hand tugging at his tie, pulling him into the room while the other hand closes the door and then Dean feels himself being pushed back by a warm body against his. 

His back connects with the closed door and there’s a set of lips on his while her hands hold his face, small fingers span wide over his cheek and she’s not quite kissing him right because she’s not on heels and is a little shorter than him, so he lowers himself a little, giving her better access so she could kiss him right. And he does all that while he grins into the kiss, his hands on her waist. 

She parts with a cheeky grin, “Good Morning, Dean.” 

Dean smacks his lips as he looks down, has to bend down and steal another kiss, just because he can. He smiles when he parts, “Happy Birthday, baby,” He almost said princess, but only because everyone calls her that now, “You’re already up?”

Her hands are still braced on his shirt, fingers toying with his tie and it’s now that Dean notices that she’s already dressed. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” She pouts adorably.

Chuckling, he brushes a hand over her cheek, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, “Is that so?”

Looking up, Y/N nods.

“So, why didn’t you open the door when I knocked the first time?” He raises an eyebrow in question. 

Pushing herself away from him with a chuckle, she walks back to the bathroom, swinging her hips. Dean guesses it’s for good measure and to make him notice. Boy, he notices it alright, notices her dress. It’s a white flowery one. A dress that points out one’s innocence. It’s a little ironic, as Dean knows how dirty this girl is, knows what her tongue is capable of, and well, there he is, his fucking dick stirring in his pants at the sight and the knowledge.

“I’m still getting myself ready,” She calls out from her bathroom as if it’s a good enough excuse for not opening the door and let him fry outside. Dean takes it anyway, he told himself not to be annoyed at her, not on her special day.

Of course she’s getting herself ready. She doesn’t even know where they’re going, but he likes how excited she is about it. Dean steps further into the room and lays down on the still unmade bed. His nose catches the scent of her, it’s so sweet it’s almost nauseating. Maybe only because his body is filled with want. With the want to stay here. With the want to curl up in bed with her, forgetting everything around them. 

Looking to the side, he catches the balled up fabric underneath her pillow. Dean doesn’t have to pull it out to know that it’s the hem of his shirt. The one he made her wear after they fucked for the first time. A weird sense of pride washes over him. He’s proud to know that she still sleeps in it. Proud to know that by her doing that means that she’s his, isn’t she? His heart calls her his. It’s his mind that won’t allow him to do it. Not when everything’s so fucked up and it could blow up in his face.

Still deep in his thoughts, Dean grunts when he feels something heavy on his stomach. 

She’s straddling him with a grin, “Why are you collecting me so early?”

Dean’s hand rubs along the smooth skin on her bare thighs, hands squeezing at her flesh as he looks up. Her face is illuminated by the soft glow of the bedside light. She looks absolutely beautiful. 

He swallows before he speaks, a little taken aback by how much his heart wants her, “Because I’m selfish and want more time with you.” 

There’s a little frown on her face before it evens out and a smile starts to spread. She leans forward, kisses him soft and tender, and Dean draws her closer, his hand on the back of her neck. 

Capturing his bottom lip, she sucks on it, making him chuckle into the kiss, “Baby, we should get going,”

Releasing his lips with a wet pop, she groans as she sits right back up, “Ugh,”

Dean pushes her off him playfully and she squeals. Reaching out for her, he helps her up and rearranges his tie and shirt, careful not to look too ruffled up when he steps out of her room, which is risky enough in itself. 

Thankfully, this part of the house is still asleep. The only part that’s awake is in the back where the kitchen is situated. The maids and chefs are already preparing breakfast. 

They slip down the stairs undetected and it’s when they are in the car that she turns to him to ask where he’s taking her. 

“You’ll see,” He clicks his tongue against his lips, leaves it there and winks.

  
  


*

  
  


The first stop is at the restaurant and she recognizes it too as Dean slows down his car.

“It’s too early,” She says, “It’s not going to be open yet,”

Dean kills the motor and looks over at her, raising an eyebrow for good measure, “You sure?”

“Duh? Yeah? I have worked here, I know when we open! It’s certainly not before seven!”

He has to suppress his grin at her reaction. It’s super cute when she’s annoyed at him. 

Leaning closer, he whispers into her ear, “Look again,”

Y/N turns her head to look into the restaurant only to see the inside light up as Jo and Garth are standing by the window. In their hands are balloons and a big sign that says “HAPPY BIRTHDAY”. 

“No way.” She clasps her hand over her mouth.

“Yes, way.” Dean chuckles and gets out of the car, walks over to her side to help her out.

He lets her walk inside first because even though Dean told Jo and Garth to be ready when he arrives, he didn’t tell them about what they are. It actually pains him, but this is only the first stop. They will drive further away after their breakfast. Somewhere where they can be what they are with nobody watching them.

One table is already set up, and they all take a seat. Garth has outdone himself with fresh pancakes and waffles. He even made different variations of eggs and Dean digs into the bacon, scoops up more than the others. Can’t really help it, he just really loves bacon.

He didn’t say much during the meal. Instead, he listens to the three of them talk and he watches her every now and then, thinks it’s great to see her happy. It’s probably not something she is very often.

Apparently, Garth and Jo have never done this before. Never celebrated any birthdays with her. Not because they didn’t want to, Dean’s been told, but because they didn’t know if they were allowed to. It almost broke his heart to hear that, and after Dean asked them to take part in surprising her, they were so fucking excited. He doubts that Garth got any sleep at all from excitement, judging by the bags under the dude's eyes.

“Where are you taking her?” Jo asks and Dean almost spits the coffee out of his mouth because he didn’t expect Y/N to tell them that Dean’s taking her out. 

“Uh,” He stammers, “That’s top secret.”

“Come on, it’s us!” Garth drives his elbow into Dean’s ribs and he shuts the dude down with a glare. Garth can’t look away fast enough and Dean feels a little guilty, but he really doesn’t like to reveal it here. 

“Speaking of,” Dean clears his throat, “Y/N, we have to go if we want to get there today,”

“Uh,” Jo exclaims, “Sounds super ominous! It means that it’s far away, right?”

Dean doesn’t answer. Instead, he stands up and brushes at his mouth with the napkin before he lays it down into his plate. He ignores the other two, only looking at Y/N, “I’ll be waiting in the car.”

It’s only about five minutes later that she shows up and as soon as she gets in, Dean drives off with a screech.

“Why do you have to hurry?” Y/N’s still busy securing her seatbelt when suddenly, Dean stops at the curb just a block away. 

“Because,” He says as he releases his tie and yanks it from his neck, “I really want to get going.” Looking at her, he holds the tie in his hand, “Turn around.” 

“Dean? A tie? That’s kinky.” She giggles, but she’s a fucking good girl because she does what he tells her. 

He chuckles, as he wraps it around her eyes, blindfolding her, “Why? You want me to use it next time I fuck you, huh?”

She whimpers at how he talks. He knows that he can run a dirty mouth, but from what he gathered, she quite likes it. He also takes it as a  _ ‘yes’  _ to his question, makes a mental note to do it sometime when they get to be alone in the apartment.

When the knot is secured on the back of her head, he tests it out to check that she really can’t see, and only when he’s absolutely sure, he lets her sit back. 

“Why do you have to do this?”

Dean's hand goes to her face, draws her closer to kiss the top of her head. Instead of answering her, though, he counters the question with a question of his own.

“You trust me, don’t you, baby?”

“Yeah,” She says in a firm voice. It makes him ache on the inside too, because she really does trust him, and how fucked up is it that he can’t even tell her the whole goddamn truth.

Pushing the thought out of his mind, he nods, “Good, you’ll like it, I promise.” He’s smiling, but she can’t quite see it. It’s a tired smile. One laced with doubts and uncertainty, but he hopes that the tone of his voice didn’t give it away.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


“Are we there yet?” She whines.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N!” Dean growls next to her, “Do you think asking me that every ten minutes will make us get there faster?”

It’s true. She kept asking and they’ve only been on a road for an hour. It’ll take at least another hour and a half if there’s not too much traffic, but he avoids telling her that. 

She hits the back of her head demonstratively against the headrest, “Ugh, I’m just bored and I can’t see a thing!” 

Dean reaches out, rubs over her thigh with one hand, “Just a while longer, okay?”

Pouting, she takes his hand and weaves her fingers through it, “‘K,”

He grabs her hand, places them to his lips, kisses the back of it, “Good,”

After about twenty minutes after her outburst, she fell asleep. Dean knows that because her head tips back, exposing her throat and her mouth stays open, little snoring sounds coming out of it. He smirks at the sight, can’t really help it because it’s fucking adorable. There are weird pinpricks in his heart every time he glances over.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


Y/N’s still sleeping when they arrive and Dean gets out of the car and takes a minute to inhale the fresh air tinted with salt. He closes his eyes, lets the breeze brush over his face and hair. 

When he opens them again, he unbuttons the top two buttons of his shirt and folds the fabric back on his forearm before he walks around the car to open the passenger door. 

He grins when she still doesn’t stir, is still sleeping soundly, a drip of drool at the corner of her lips. 

_ Jesus _ , he should not be feeling the things he feels but he does and he has got to face the consequences somewhen— 

—but not now. Not today. 

Dean leans down, nudges his nose to her cheek, plants kisses there and on her lips.

“Baby, wake up,” He breathes out, nudges her awake some more, carries on doing it until she starts to stir.

Y/N smacks her lips, yawns and Dean smirks. 

“Are we there yet?” Her voice is strained, still full of sleep.

He chuckles, “Yes,” Dean says and kisses her once more, “Yes, we’re here,” 

Taking her hand, he pulls her up, drapes her over his shoulder and she squeals at that. 

She’s barefoot, having taken her shoes off on the drive but it doesn’t matter. She wouldn’t need her shoes here. 

While Dean walks, he feels her stirring in his grip so he tightens his hands around her, doesn’t really want to drop her. Her hands are on his back, and his hands, well, his hands are on her thigh and ass. Can’t really help but squeeze it roughly, thinking that he won’t be able to resist getting a piece of that later. 

And all this while the man Dean’s supposed to meet is already waiting for him. Dean can see him standing in the distance, can see the man watching them, but somehow, he doesn’t care, squeezes once more, making her squeal again while he chuckles. 

“Where are we?” She asks, but Dean doesn’t answer. He’s sure that she must have already heard the waves crashing, must have smelt the salt tinted air, must have heard the seagulls crying overhead.

Instead of answering her, Dean nods to the man in the distance and sets her down, positioning himself behind her.

“Oh,” Her mouth forms an ‘o’ before a smile spreads on her face, “You didn’t,”

“Sure did,” He laughs as his hand releases the tie around her eyes.

There’s another squeal of excitement when she can finally see and Dean squeezes her shoulder, “Have you ever been to the beach?”

“No,” Her voice is weak, but he knows it’s only because she catches her breath, “I’ve been on yachts, yeah, but nobody has ever taken me to a beach yet.”

She’s been on yachts. Of course. 

He dips his head down, kisses her shoulder and she reaches back, threads her hand through his hair, “Thank you,” She whispers and tilts her head, kisses his cheek.

“That’s not all,”

“It’s not?”

Dean’s lips are still on her shoulder and he inches them closer to her neck, “Nuh-uh,”

“Nuh-uh?”

Kissing her neck, he smirks, “There’s someone who wanted to wish you a happy birthday too,”

“Who?”

He turns her around so she can see the man. There’s a yelp as she speeds towards him, leaving Dean to laugh and catch up. 

“Uncle Bobby!” She cries out excitedly.

Dean watches as he opens his arm in an embrace and Y/N goes in for a bear hug.

“I’m sorry,” She says, “I should have said goodbye,”

Bobby hugs her a little tighter at that, “Happy birthday my darling,” The man laughs, “Don’t you worry about that, okay?”

Dean has reached them both now, but he stays a couple of feet away, giving the two of them space. 

“Why don’t you come by the house any more?” Y/N sounds whiny. It’s more adorable than annoying, though.

The big man releases his grip on her, holds her by her arms before he brushes the knuckles of his one hand over her cheek, “I need to put as much distance between me and the family as I possibly can, dear. One day, you’ll understand.”

She frowns.

Bobby chuckles, “It’s for my own safety, sweetheart. But I miss you dearly. I’m glad Dean’s there for you.”

She looks back at Dean and he just shrugs.

“Once this is all over we can meet again, okay? I’ll take you to the aquarium.” Bobby’s smile starts to falter. Dean can see that the man tries to hold it together, but the glassy eyes give him away.

“When what is over?” Y/N asks curiously, seemingly not understanding what’s going on and Dean can’t blame her one bit. Both men don’t really know either, all they know is that someday, this is all going to be over, it’s more the  _ when  _ and the  _ how  _ that they have to work out.

“You’ll know it when the day comes, sweetheart.” The old man tries to calm her. 

“Ugh,” She sighs, “I wish you would stop speaking in riddles, my head hurts.”

Bobby has to chuckle at that. Dean’s surprised that she doesn’t ask more questions but again, he really shouldn’t be surprised. She was not raised to ask questions and it clearly shows.

“I’ve sent some books to your home. You still read, right?” Bobby asks, fingers pushing her chin up and she nods, “Good,” The man smiles, “Now, can you give me a minute with the fine young man here? I’ve got something to discuss.”

“‘K,” She says and steps to the side before she turns towards the waves. Y/N starts to walk and then stops before she turns back to them, “Can I go in the water?”

They both open their mouths at the same time but Bobby was quicker to answer her, “Of course you can, darling. Knock yourself out,” 

Her smile is bright as she starts to walk further away from them.

“Don’t swim!” Dean calls out, “The water is too cold and we don’t have a change of clothes with us!”

“Yeah, yeah, blah, blah” She mumbles, but it’s loud enough for them to hear and Dean thinks she’s doing it deliberately, the little brat.

Dean’s eyes widen and he has to gasp for air while Bobby is laughing heartily next to him.

“That’s what I have to deal with!” Dean shouts to Bobby and the old man places a hand on his shoulder, squeezes it. 

“Oh, son, you don’t have to tell me, I’ve done this for many, many years,” The man brushes a tear away from the corner of his eye and Dean has a hard time distinguishing if they are tears of laughter or some hidden sentiment behind Bobby’s facade. The old man takes a deep breath and looks into the distance, where Y/N is digging her toes into the sand before he opens his mouth to speak again, “But you wouldn’t want to have it any other way, would you?”

Dean’s eyes roam the distance too, tries to see what Bobby’s seeing. And he sees her. Sees how she lifts her skirt while she plays with the waves, flashing them half of her ass cheeks. 

He has to grin and shakes his head, “No, I wouldn’t.” 

There’s a smile tugging at his lips when he hears her squeal in delight.

_ Wouldn’t change it for the world _ , Dean thinks, but doesn’t allow himself to say out loud.

Bobby seems to notice Dean trailing off because the man clears his throat before he speaks, which prompts Dean to be pulled back into reality.

“So, tonight, huh?” Bobby looks at him.

He tears his eyes away from Y/N who’s standing in the wet sand and lets the wave wash up and rise around her ankles. She giggles as sand is swept away from under her feet, making her sink down.

“Yeah, tonight,” Dean answers Bobby absent-mindedly as he tries to keep an eye on her at the same time.

“My daughter will be there?”

Dean tears his eyes away from Y/N for a brief second to face the old man who’s looking at him expectantly. Dean nods, “Azazel invited her, yes.” 

“I hope he’s doing better.”

“He’s doing fine, sir,”

“Good,” Bobby nods, “Will you be updating me?”

“Y/N!” Dean shouts out loudly, “Get your feet out of there before you sink in too deep!” 

Bobby laughs at his outburst.

“This girl,” Dean mutters under his breath before he returns his attention to Bobby, “I’m sorry, yeah, I will.” He says, before he catches something in the corner of his eyes and is back to shouting, “Y/N! Leave it! Don’t touch it! It’s probably dead!” 

The girl is squatting down to inspect something that looks a lot like a dead fish from where he’s standing.

“She’s like a child sometimes, isn’t she?” Bobby chuckles.

Dean has to smile at that, “Yeah,”

“She has never learned to be any different, son, you have to go easy on her.”

“I am,” Dean breathes out, “God knows I am. Honestly, I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

The old man nods, before he looks around him. The beach is a little deserted. It’s not a prime spot for beach goers, it’s pretty much a secluded spot Dean once found, “It’s a nice location. Did you choose it or did she tell you that she wanted to go to the beach?”

“That’s on me, sir,”

“She’s never been. She’s never felt sand between her toes,”

“Yeah,” Dean smirks, “That’s what she’s told me.”

And it’s really no surprise that Y/N acts the way she does. She’s on her knees now, digging a hole in the sand. She’s happy and Dean likes that. Likes that he’s the one who can show her something new, something she’s never done before. It makes him see the world with different eyes too. Makes him not take things for granted that feel too natural to him. 

“Alright,” Bobby says after a while of watching Y/N, “I’ll leave you two to enjoy your day. Take care of her, okay?”

“I will,” Dean answers, knowing full well that if he says that  _ he’ll try _ , it wouldn’t be good enough for Bobby.

It also serves as a reminder for himself because yes, he will take care of her. He just hopes he’ll be around long enough to do it.

The old man says his goodbyes and Y/N runs back to send him off. When Bobby’s gone, Dean sits down and takes off his shoes and socks and braces his arms on his knees as he sits with bent legs. She leans her head against his shoulder. 

They both look at the waves crashing in and Dean tilts his face, places a kiss on the crown of her head, “You like it here?”

She smiles up at him. It’s a beautiful smile. One he wants to capture and store it in his memory to take it out whenever he needs a reminder how beautiful the world can be. 

Dean moves her after, places her in front of him, between his legs, as he wraps his arms around her and buries his face into the crook of her neck from behind. He places a chaste kiss there, “I was hoping you’d like it,”

“How did you find this place?” 

He exhales, has to clear his throat before he can speak again, “Use to bring Sam here when our father was gone for a long period of time. It always cheered him up.”

She tilts her head to look up at him and Dean takes the opportunity, places a kiss right between her eyebrows, “Sam?”

“My brother.”

“Are you two close?”

Dean swallows the lump in his throat, “We were.”

“Oh,” Y/N says and turns her gaze back in front.

Dean sighs, “Yeah, not anymore. He’s a lawyer, and I chose the wrong side to be on.” 

It’s not really a lie either. Sam never liked that Dean worked undercover, always hated it and after a while, Sam decided that he doesn’t want anything to do with him anymore. Somehow, Sam decided that it was better for him to act as if Dean was dead. 

He swallows down the lump in this throat, swallows down the tears that want to make their way to the surface, “I’m not a good man, Y/N. My own brother has cut me out of his life. Don’t say I haven’t warned you.”

She sits up on her knees and turns around, captures his face between her palms, “Dean, look at me,” 

Dean does. His eyes are clouded, but he does.

“Don’t say that, okay? You should give yourself more credit. Have you ever thought that maybe your brother cutting you out of his life was because he loves you too much? Because he was afraid that you’ll get hurt and it’s easier for him to pretend that you’re gone and you’ll never come back?”

He has in fact, never thought about it. Dean thought Sam really hated him. 

“Dean,” She smiles, and kisses him. It’s too gentle, a kiss that makes his heart ache. When she parts, she looks at him again, smiles as she speaks, “You’re the best man I know. You take care of me, you protect me, that’s all that matters.”

Is it really, though? He doesn’t know. All he knows is that he’s fucking betraying her too. 

“One day, maybe you can see Sam again?” She asks and Dean nods. 

Yeah, maybe one day Dean will find a way back to Sam. Maybe, that day will be here sooner than they all thought it would.

Before the mood could drop lower, Dean leans back a little and starts to fold up his slacks on each leg. When he finishes, he rubs over her arm, “Come on, race you to the water?”

Dean’s up and running before she can even register.

“Hey! Not fair!” Y/N yells after him, but soon she starts to laugh as she breaks into a run to catch up.


	20. Chapter.19

Dean’s standing at the edge of the water, the waves crashing in, water rising over his ankles. He has clearly won the race, although it’s an unfair one since he didn’t give her a heads up. But it doesn’t seem like Y/N minds, because she giggles as she charges towards him. 

The wind tousles up her hair, her skirt lifts up as she runs, and if Dean could have taken a picture of the big wide grin on her face while she runs towards him, he would have. Instead, he’s going to store the image in his memories. Will take it out if he should need a reminder of how happy and carefree she was.

He laughs too, can’t  _ not  _ laugh at the sight of seeing her so carefree. Lowering himself a little, he opens up his arms wide, and she jumps right into them, squeals as she does, giggles too while she hooks her arms behind his neck while Dean spins her around. 

One could think that life’s good. That life is exactly like he wants it to be. Easy, carefree, them against the world. It’s a pity it won’t last, and he knows that too, but for now, he pushes the thought out of his mind.

  
  


*

  
  


For lunch, Dean had prepared a blanket and Garth excused himself this morning during breakfast to go to the bathroom. What Garth really did was to load Dean’s car with a cooler. Dean’s surprised at how much Garth packed for them. It’s simple, though, there are fruits, salads, and sandwiches, one that says  _ ‘For Dean - Extra Bacon’ _ and he laughed at that.

After their meal, they made themselves comfortable in between the dunes and she’s sitting up, eating slices of fruit when Dean lays himself down, resting his head in her lap. 

Y/N looks down at him while she still chews and he smiles up at her. God, he doesn’t want this to end. He never knew that this would happen when he first took on the job, and even though he knows how this might all end, he still most likely wouldn’t have changed a thing because he’s selfish. He wants it all — even if it’s just those little slivers of happiness in the midst of a storm. He’s selfish, because if she feels slightly the way he feels, he’s going to end up hurting her and hurting her badly. He’s fucking egotistical and maybe he deserves what will come next.

Her hand finds his head, fingers stroking through his hair and Dean closes his eyes, relishing himself in the familiarity of the moment. 

“Penny for your thoughts,” 

Dean opens his one eye to squint at her, sees her smiling down at him. Grinning, he turns himself around and moves up, making her lean back so far that she’s laying on the blanket while he pins her down. She giggles as he sprays kisses on her collarbone, working his way up her neck to claim her mouth. 

The kiss is clumsy, a little messy. Their noses bump against each other because Dean’s hands are on the side of her body, tickling her a little. When he stops, he’s leaning over her, he pretends to bite off her nose before he places a kiss on her lips, parts after with a grin. 

“‘M thinking that I like this. Being here, with you.” He says, as one of his hands smoothes a strand of her loose hair to the back. 

Y/N’s hand comes up, fingertips traveling over his eyebrow, down the bridge of his nose. She cradles his cheek, his scruff rough against the palm of her hand. And Dean leans into it, closes his eyes briefly.

“Best birthday ever,” She smiles up at him, “Thank you.”

“Sorry, I didn’t get you a present. I just couldn’t think of anything that I could give someone who already has everything.” 

“This is the best gift anyone has ever given me,” She smiles, her thumb strokes his cheek, “Thank you.”

Dean leans down, his lips touch hers and he grins into the kiss, mumbling as he presses it to hers, “You’re so welcome.” 

She breathes into the kiss because she smiles too. The kiss grows harder, heavier, more demanding from both sides. He knows he’s fucking needy but it’s good to see that she’s matching him in that department. 

Using her force, she tries to turn them around and Dean lets her, his one hand in her hair while his other one wraps around her waist. She sits up, and it’s obvious that she’s feeling the bulge in his pants because she grinds down on it, making him groan out at the friction. 

Her hands are on his chest as she tortures him by gyrating her pussy on his crotch. Dean’s hand reaches out, fingertips skimming over the side of her face and down her chest, fingers pinching at her nipple, eliciting a sweet moan from her. 

“Jesus, I want you so bad,” His hands are now firm on her hips, helping her move around above him, fingertips digging into her flesh, squeezing her sides.

“You can have me,” Her smile is genuine, and then she tugs at her bottom lip with her teeth. The sight does fucking things to him. 

Dean’s hips buck up when she grinds on it just right and he shakes her head, “Don’t have enough time to drive to the apartment. Won’t be able to bring you back at eight,” His voice is strained, and he’s holding back as best as he can. 

God, she really does things to him. 

There’s a smile tugging away at the corner of her lips and they curve up into something cocky. Turning her head, she looks around and when her gaze returns to meet his, there’s something glistening in her eyes, and that’s when Dean just knows that she’s up to no good. 

She gets off his crotch then, sits between his legs, and spreads her thighs, draping her own legs over thighs. He lifts himself up on his elbows, in order to see better. 

With a grin, she lifts up her dress, revealing her panties. They are lacy and white. A color that matches her dress. Lifting one finger to her mouth, she tells Dean to shut up when he gasps. 

“Jesus Christ, what are you doing?” He hisses under his breath, but he doesn’t stop her.

Dean’s too weak for her, weak for that cocky grin, fucking weak when he watches her rubbing herself through her panties. 

Sitting back, Y/N spreads her legs wider. Her one hand is holding her dress up while she still grins. It’s cheeky. Hooking her finger into the crotch of her panties, she pulls them to the side, revealing something that makes Dean’s fucking mouth water.

“Baby,” 

The voice comes out broken, as if he’s shushing himself because a part of him wants to fucking watch while the other part of him, the reasonable part, wants her to stop because they can get fucking caught.

He tries to open his mouth to reason with her but his eyes are transfixed on her glistening cunt. God, Dean wants so much to have a taste, wants to tell her to just fucking take a seat on his face, but he just can’t. Not when there’s the possibility that they’ll get caught and if they do, things are going to blow up in his face sooner rather than later. 

A deep growl left his lips and his dick twitches in its confines when she rubs her pussy wetly with two fingers before she dips them into her pussy. The slick sound is prominent in his ears. He catches his drool, swallows it down thickly.

She moans as she closes her eyes, fucks herself some more on her fingers and Dean can’t help it, he sits up a little more, palms his dick through his slacks with one hand while he’s still braced on one elbow. 

“Dean,” 

His name leaves her lips and it sounds like a prayer. It sounds like he’s the answer to it. Sounds like she’s begging for him. 

Speechless, he watches as she pulls her fingers out of herself, and  _ holy fucking shit _ , she’s sucking them into her mouth, and Dean feels a pang of jealousy hitting him because she won’t fucking share. 

“How do you taste?” He asks while he watches her popping a finger out of her mouth wetly. 

Chuckling, she looks at him, pops the fingers back in her mouth as if she wants to see if the taste is still there. Dean watches her popping them out again, tongue twirling at the tips, “Not as bad as I thought I would.”

Dean knows how she tastes. It’s the fucking sweetest thing and he literally aches for a taste. He lets out a sound that comes from his throat, it doesn’t sound human, but that’s not the first time. Not with her. 

Before Dean knows it, she scoots closer and lays her hands on his hand that’s still palming his crotch, helping him move his hand along his length. It is all sensual and Dean bites on his bottom lip, tries to not give into the feeling because he’s sure if he would, he’d cream his pants too quick.

Throwing his head back, he groans and closes his eyes, only to be jolted back to reality when he hears his belt clicking. Looking down, he sees Y/N pulling his zipper down. Her one hand makes it under the waistband of his underwear before Dean can even form coherent words or push those words past his lips to stop her. 

“Jesus, fuck!” He grits his teeth, curses some more when she wraps her fist around his hard dick and squeezes at the tip, making more precum drip out of the slit.

She’s giggling. Actual fucking giggles. She fucking enjoys this, and probably the weirdest thing about it is that Dean can’t find it in himself to tell her to really stop. On the contrary, he quite enjoys the sound she makes.

Moving on top, Dean knows what she wants to do but instead of stopping her, he fucking grunts out something incoherently because she threads his cockhead through her slit, coating it up with her wetness that’s leaking out of her pussy. 

Yeah, instead of staying stop, Dean throws his head back at the feeling, grunts some more and tries to breathe evenly. As soon as Dean catches himself, he goes back to watching. Her tongue sticks out and rests at the corner of her lips, her brows are knotted in concentration as she wedges the head of his cock to her entrance.

_ This fucking adorable girl. _

Slowly, she sits down and works his lengths deeper into her. It’s slow. So fucking slow. Dean curses and holds his breath. 

_ Goddammit. _

_ Fuck. _

His dick carves a way into her tight heat, feels every fucking bump and ridge on the way because she’s going down slowly and then there’s resistance. Still, she wriggles down the last half inch, whimpering as she sits down fully onto him.

“God, you’re so deep,” Y/N pants above him, and then her strained breathing makes way for laughter.

Dean has to chuckle with her. The rumbling of his body sends her trembling above him and even though she doesn’t move, it feels fucking perfect. She has let her dress down, and the place where they are connected is hidden from any eyes that could be prying. It’s too bad he can’t watch himself either, because that’s what he likes to do. He absolutely loves watching his hard cock going in and out of her, loves to see how her pussy clenches around him, loves to fucking  _ feel  _ how tight she grips his lengths. 

What Dean’s doing next is basically a self-fucking-service because he’s selfish and wants to see all of her. 

Pushing himself up into a sitting position, he wraps his arms around her waist while she still sits on top of his dick, unmoving. He claims her mouth, kisses her rough and hard, drags his lips down to her jaw, further down, licks at her throat and sucks in a patch of skin. He would just love to fucking mark her up. Knows that he fucking can’t and it kills him.

Going back up, he kisses her lips, whispers to her, “Baby, hold tight,”

Their noses touch and she nods before she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. 

Chuckling, Dean kisses her again before he lifts himself up to his feet with her still impaled on his throbbing cock. As he does so, his dick moves inside of her and she moans while Dean swallows all the sounds, groaning himself while he feels her pussy clenching around him. She wraps her arms tight around his neck and squeezes her legs around his hips. 

_ Jesus _ , he has to be careful not to come at the good feeling. 

Dean supports her ass with one of his hands while he tries to hold onto his pants with his other one, walking her the short distance to the car while they are still connected. It’s a whole new feeling. He’s so deep inside of her. His dick twitches against her cervix with every step he takes, and she seems to enjoy it, rocks above him, just a little. Too much given the circumstances, but also not nearly enough.

He fumbles his pants for the keys to his car, fumbles some more with the handle to open up the door to the backseat and Y/N chuckles against his neck, plants soft kisses there, making him shiver.

“Fuck,” 

Muttering, Dean shakes his head, wonders how he can get in without slipping out of her, while preventing both of them from knocking their head on the doorframe of the car at the same time. Because the thing is, he’d liked to stay connected for as long as possible, but this task seems to be too hard so he has to pull her off his dick.

She whines when he does and Dean has to chuckle at that before he throws her into the backseat. She lands with a squeal and laughs some more before Dean gets in behind her, closing the door and locks it when he’s inside. He looks around out of the car just to be extra sure. The windows are tinted, but still. 

When Dean's eyes are back on hers, she’s at it again. Her nimble fingers are rubbing circles on her wet cunt, the sight and the sound of it going right to his cock, makes it twitch in excitement. 

“Baby, you can’t even wait?” He lets out a low growl before he manhandles her onto her back, spreads her across the backseat.

The only answer he gets is a squeal in delight. 

Dean laughs as he wedges himself between her legs, his hands are on her knees, pushing them apart before he dips his head down, kisses up one of her inner thighs. But before he gets to the center, Dean stops and starts to kiss up her other thigh. 

“Dean!” She whines, it sounds adorable.

Her legs are trembling the closer he gets to where she wants him to, and yeah, he could just give in because Lord knows he wants it too, but he’s a little shit, so he teases her some more. Instead of diving into the center and drinking from her, he switches up her thighs again, and this time, he uses more force, sucks and bites, using his teeth too, but still not too much. It doesn’t get even close to how he  _ really  _ wants to mark her up.

When he switches to her other thigh for a second time, she gets impatient and scolds him, “Dean!” 

“What?” He chuckles, driving his fangs into her thigh, making her yelp up, “What do you want, baby?”

“Ugh,” 

“Huh? Tell me,”

Y/N sighs audibly and he has to chuckle again.

He lifts his eyebrows as he looks down at her, sees her face all flush, sees her lips slightly parted and then there’s a hand she wants to cover her face with. 

“Nuh-uh, don’t,” Dean stops her, “You gotta look me in the eye and tell me what you want me to do,”

Crossing her arms over her chest demonstratively, she pouts and Dean leans forward, wedges himself between her to kiss that damn pout away. The tip of his dick brushes against her wet cunt, makes it twitch to life and it would be easy, Dean thinks, so fucking easy to just make it catch the rim of her pussy, to just push himself in there — but he doesn’t. 

“What do you want me to do?” He whispers against her lips and she opens them up a little, giving him space to lick into it. 

Her hands are around his neck, fingers thread through the short hair at the back of it, nails digging into his scalp, “Want you to eat me out. Want to feel your tongue on my pussy.”

Dean groans into the kiss. Hearing her say dirty things like this turns him on so fucking much. 

His teeth tugs at her lips, bites hard into it, sucks it in to ease the pain before he parts to move further down again. 

And this time he doesn’t stall. Instead, he goes right for the feast that’s waiting for him right there. He licks up her cunt, right through the middle, making her squirm as she breathes out his name. 

While he sucks and laps at her little nub, his hands travel up her body, hooks his fingers into the fabric of her dress and tears it down far enough to reveal her tits. His hands knead at them, fingers twirling around her nipple, feeling them harden underneath his touch. 

Her hands are in his hair, pulling at the short strands in order to bring him closer to her center. Dean hums and chuckles at her neediness, laps and sucks some more.

She’s close. He can feel it in the tightness of her grip on his head, can feel it in the trembling of her thighs and slowly, she starts to kick out so Dean has to abandon her tits to grip around her hips, holding her close to him, presses his face deeper into her pussy. 

It’s almost unbearable for her and he knows that she’s dragging it out. Her hands leave his head and instead, she holds onto his wrists around her hips as they lift off the leather of the seat and Dean’s still holding her tight, molds his face to her dripping core as her feet start to kick about. 

He chuckles and hums some more just to push her over the edge.

“Fuck, Dean!” 

Her thighs around his head tighten, and then he feels it, tastes it too. The new gush of wetness that comes out of the cunt he’s licking at as she comes. Dean’s dick is throbbing from eating her out, had imagined his dick inside of that pussy when she comes. 

The force around his head lessens and he places her hips back down, parts from her pussy with a smack of his wet lips. It’s really the most delicious thing. He could eat her for hours, kind of hopes that one day he’ll be able to. Wonders how many times he can make her come by just eating her out. 

“Oh god,” She pants and drapes her forearm over her eyes.

Dean chuckles as he moves up again, can’t help to kiss and suck at each of her nipples on his way up. He kisses up her collarbone, licks a path up to her mouth, kisses her hot and heavy, letting her taste herself off his tongue.

“‘Names Dean,” He chuckles as she takes the forearm from her eyes and looks up at him.

Smiling, she cradles his face between her palms, brushes over his wet cheeks with her thumbs and pulls him down for another kiss. 

“How do you want me?” He asks, because today’s her day. Well, to be honest, every day is her day, and Dean’s just really okay with whatever because mainly, he’s fucking gone on her and secondly, he’s happy to take whatever he gets. At least that’s his thinking with her.

She grins, “Want you to sit down,”

“But you’re not sucking me off, I don’t think I’ll last,” He mumbles, and it’s the truth too. He’s so worked up already, he’s barely holding himself together.

“Dean,” Her hand cradles his face again, places a kiss square on his wet lips before pushing him off of her, “Just do as I say, okay?”

“So bossy,” He chuckles out in a mumble, but scrambles off her to sit down. His dick is still very much hard, still very wet at the tip, a drop of precum rests at his slit. 

Y/N stands up a little, is bent in the middle because there’s just not enough space in the car and Dean groans when her hand wraps around his shaft. She sticks her tongue out, lapping up the drop of precum, pulls her face away and there’s a string attaching her tongue to his cock. Dean groans out again at the sight, thinks it’s fucking dirty, but he fucking loves it.

Turning herself around, Dean watches as she positions herself in between his thighs. He spreads them a little wider to accommodate her. Her one hand stretches out from between her legs, takes a hold of his dick and positions it right at her entrance. And slowly, she lets herself impale on his dick. 

He groans at the sensation of the warmly wet and tight heat that’s engulfing his cock, curses out when she bottoms out, “God, fuck—”

She gets a hold of the seat in front of her, uses it as a leverage to bounce on his dick and Dean’s mesmerized by the sight of her ass slapping against his thighs. Has to knead at the flesh, can’t really help it. 

“Fuck,” Dean grunts out, “Look at you,” His hands are on her asscheeks, spreading them so he can see better, “Taking my cock so good, baby, such a good girl,” 

The praise does things to her, he knows that too. She begins to bounce a little harder, moans a little louder every time Dean’s dick would hit her just right. 

Dean spanks his hands down on both her cheeks, grabs at the flesh and helps her guide up and down his cock. She yelps at the pain, but she gets more enthusiastic so he spanks again, “You like that, huh? Like me spanking you?”

“Oh god, yes,” 

He chuckles before spanking her one more time. 

“Jesus, you’re getting wetter when I do it, creaming my dick too, you should see that, baby. So fucking good,” He mumbles and threads his thumb through the cream and juice she leaves on his dick every time she bounces up, “How does it feel, baby?”

“God,” She moans out, “So good,”

“Good,” Dean spanks down again, for good measure, “Feels great for me too,” He grabs her by her hips, and buckles up, fucks against her, “Touch yourself, make yourself come, baby. Wanna feel you come around my cock,”

“Fuck,” Y/N pants, but she’s a good girl, does what he tells her to. Her hand rubs against her clit, and it doesn’t take long because Dean can feel the walls clenching down around him. 

“Come,” He encourages her, his voice a low whisper, “Come for me,”

There’s a squeeze, a tight grip around his dick in the wet slick and it gets wetter as she spasms and comes around his cock. It squeezes him so hard that she pushes him right out while collapsing sideways. Dean reaches out in time to stop her from falling, pulls her back against him as he fists his wet cock, recovering himself from her powerful orgasm he felt. He’s out of breath and he didn’t even come yet. 

Dean chuckles before holding her upright and turns her in his lap, making her straddle him this time. She’s still trembling, he can feel it, but he slips himself right in, making her moan when he hits her cervix. Her walls are still vibrating around his cock, little aftershocks from her orgasm and fucking her right after the orgasm or fucking her through it, is the best fucking thing. 

Her hands are wrapped around his neck and one hand of his goes to the back of her head, pulls her down and closer, kisses her deep and wet just like the way he fucks her. 

“Oh, god,” She chuckles into the kiss as soon as she recovers and starts to rock on his cock, her arms are still around his neck and Dean kisses down her throat, goes lower too to lick and suck at her tits. Her hands are in his hair now, pulling him into her chest while she rocks harder, a little faster. 

At one point she stops bouncing and grinds on his dick. It’s so deep inside of her and it squeezes him just right. Dean lets go of her tits, just kneads one in his big hand as he works his mouth up her throat, kisses her chin and claims her mouth. He parts when she grinds faster, whispering against her lips as his forehead rests on hers, “Jesus fuck—, I’m fucking close, baby. That’s it, fuck— just like that. Good fucking girl,”

She cradles his face with one hand while she moves her hips in a figure eight, eliciting groans and grunts from him, “Good,” She smiles, “Come for me, Dean, I wanna feel you fill me up. Want you to come deep inside my pussy. Do it, come for me,”

_ Well, fuck. _

Dean never stood a chance, did he? Not when she talks like this.

He comes with a loud groan and presses his face into the crook of her neck, while his one hand rests on her hips, fingers digging deep into her flesh. His other hand is still on her tit, squeezing it roughly when he comes but she doesn’t complain. Instead, she chuckles as she strokes his head, waits for him to come down from his high. 

When he recovers enough to think straight, Dean looks up to see her smiling down at him. Her face is flushed, sweat beads on her hairline, her eyes are glowing with that afterglow. 

The most beautiful thing he has ever seen. 

His heart is flipping in his chest, and he knows that it’s not only because he had an orgasm that made him see fucking stars. No, he definitely knows that it’s the effect she has on him. Knows that he’s fallen for her, harder than he ever thought he would. Harder than he should have allowed himself to.

He chuckles, pulls her down, kisses her soft and tender, pours things into the kiss he’s not allowed to say aloud. Hopes that she feels it. Hopes that she’ll forgive him once she knows the truth.


	21. Chapter.20

They arrived two minutes before the curfew her father had set out for her. Not that it really matters, because as they stepped through the door, nobody seemed to notice them nor did they pay them any attention anyway. 

“Go,” Dean nudges her with his elbow, both his hands in his pocket.

She guesses that it’s a protective measure because he doesn’t trust himself not to touch her. Of course, she can be wrong about it, she’d just like to think that it’s the reason.

Looking up at him, she sees Dean nodding at her, a weary smile on his lips. Nodding back, she goes, and he follows her up the stairs, still a safe distance behind. They part ways and she makes her way to her room, while Dean walks further down the landing, disappearing into his own room. 

Y/N has less than an hour to wash the sand out of her hair and the cum from between her thighs. Slowly, she peels herself from her dress and sticky underwear before she hops into the shower. 

Before they drove away from the beach late that afternoon, she had thanked Dean again for the great day, thanked him for the surprise of seeing Bobby. Thanked him for just being with her on the particular day she doesn’t like to be alone. He pulled her close, kissed the top of her head while he drove, and she didn’t want to but sleep overtook her and the next thing she knew, Dean nudged his nose against her cheek, waking her up because they had arrived home. 

_ Ugh.  _

She’d rather be anywhere else but here.

While she washes the sand out of her hair, she remembers that Dean once asked her to run away with him. It wasn’t even that long ago. She doesn’t think she wasn’t ready then, but perhaps she would be now. She really, truly is considering it. Maybe because she just knows in her heart that she’s ready to follow him wherever he might take her. He had never mentioned it again though, and she wonders if he’s changed his mind. Perhaps she should ask him. Perhaps they should plot out a plan together on how they could go about it without being followed or getting fucking caught.

  
  
  


*

  
  


After she’s dressed and has some makeup on her face, she walks down in her heels, has to clutch at the railing while walking down as not to just trip and fall. She’s awfully clumsy whenever she wears heels and it takes a lot of self-control not to stumble. Even though they are hard to walk in, she enjoys it occasionally as it makes her look like she’s sophisticated, makes her look like she’s really a woman with standards. Her dad loves it when she wears them, and has said that it makes her appear grown-up, like someone he would want to have standing next to him. 

She stopped wearing heels for a couple of months after he said that — purely out of spite.

The dress she wears is a silver sequin wrap dress with long sleeves. It stops about four inches above her knees. Not too short and not too long. She thinks the length is just right. Due to the wrapping of the dress, she has a dipping neckline, wears a push-up bra to accentuate her cleavage. She’d say that she dresses for herself and how she feels but deep down she knows that she also dresses to impress Dean. He’s always in the back of her mind and she hopes that he’ll like it on her and won’t think that she went overboard with it. 

When she walks along the hallway to the back of the house where the dining hall is set up, she already hears the voices of people talking. The guests are mingling in there, taking their first drinks and that’s when she knows that she’s late so she speeds up as fast as her feet in heels would allow her. Rounding up a corner, she bumps into Dean who’s coming out of his office. Like, bumps right  _ into  _ him. Her nose hits his chest and Dean’s hand automatically goes to her shoulder and arm, holding her steady.

“Woah, watch it,” He chuckles playfully.

Y/N automatically takes a step back, looks at his shirt to see if there are makeup stains on it, “I’m sorry.” Mumbling out, she looks up at him, sees him smiling down at her.

Dean exhales, “Wow,” 

She notices that he’s showered too. He wears a new set of pants and shirts, even a new suit jacket. He smells fresh, smells like his body wash. That, paired with his cologne, is indeed a lethal combination for her senses. His hair is still a little damp and she wonders if he thought of her while he stood under the spray of water as she thought of him. She would love to shower with him again sometime. 

The thought makes her ear burn and Dean seems to notice because he’s chuckling softly. He opens his mouth, clicks his tongue against his teeth as if he wants to say something— 

“Mr. Winchester, Mr. Lehne had asked for you,” The maid interrupts them and Dean nods towards the maid.

Before he goes, he squeezes her arm, “You okay?” And then he leans in a little, “Not too sore?”

“Yeah,” She says, smiles a weak smile, “Yeah, I am okay.”

How weird would it be to ask him to run away with her now?  _ Absolutely super weird _ , she decides, so she bites down on her lip, tries to push the thought out of her head and is ready to go on with the last bullet point on her to-do list for the day. 

“Good,” Dean nods, “I have to—” He trails off, looking in the direction of the hall.

“It’s okay, go,” 

He squeezes her arm once more before he turns to leave. 

Standing rooted to the floor, she waits a couple of minutes longer, waits until her mind is less cloudy before she makes her way into the dining hall.

  
  
  


*

  
  


She stands to talk with Bela, and Bela tells her that she broke off the engagement with her fiancé. That was apparently what Bela had wanted to talk about when she was going to come over for a movie night. She almost feels bad for not being here for her friend and she was going to make up for it, but before she can even suggest they go to a quiet corner to talk, Bela trails off to talk with other people. Y/N sighs as she watches her friend walk off and she too tries to make small talk with everyone who congratulates her. Not because she wants to, but more because it is required of her. 

_ Only a couple of hours _ , she says to herself, tries to calm herself down and as the drinks flow, it gets easier. 

Dean didn’t show up for the first ten minutes after she arrived in the dining hall and she wonders where her Dad took him to talk to him. Before she can dwell on that more, she’s swept right into another conversation as Crowley’s wife begins to complain to her about her husband’s working hours as if Y/N can do anything about it. Not that she cares at all anyway. 

When Dean joins the rest of the people with her father, she notices that he’s keeping himself away from her and instead of noticing her, he strikes up a conversion with Bela. In fact, during the evening, she watches them talking and walking around as if they were joined at the hips. Dean never leaves her friend’s side. 

She swallows down what’s left of her champagne in the flute she’s holding, points out to the waiter to get her more. If she wants to get this evening over with, she will need a lot of fucking alcohol.

God, she’s mad. What is that all about? Why doesn’t he look at her one fucking time? Did he only become friends with her, so he can get into Bela’s pants? Fuck, she hates herself. Hates that she’s being played and she didn’t even know it. She thought he really liked her but apparently, the joke’s on her.

_ Fuck. _

Y/N downs the next drink too, signaling for another flute while she watches Bela brace one of her hands on Dean’s chest as the woman laughs at something he said. 

She feels nauseous, doesn’t know why she’s fucking here anymore, wants to just go up to her room, lock herself in to never come out again. 

It hurts. It really does fucking hurt and that’s when she knows that she’s been feeling way too much for Dean fucking Winchester. The guy with whom she shouldn’t have had a relationship with in the first place. Serves her right, she guesses. You live and learn, right?

Thankfully, her father clinks at his glass and tells the people to sit down. She moves up to the head of the table, sits next to her dad. Benny takes his seat on the other end and she’s thankful fucking Nick is not invited. 

Bela’s taking a seat next to her and she doesn’t look at her friend, she just can’t. She’s sure that if she would look, she’d say something she’ll regret and maybe she’ll cause a scene and that’s something she’d like to avoid.

Dean sits next to Bela and Y/N almost snorts out her champagne.

Well, this is going great. 

_ Fuck him. _

_ Fuck this evening. _

_ Fuck her life. _

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


After the entree, her Dad clinks his glass with a fork, stands up to give a speech and she’s doing her best to hold back the eye-rolling that she feels wants to take over.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Her Father says, “It is my pleasure to announce that I’ll be holding a gala in two weeks’ time and you’re all invited. We initially wanted to do it next week but the venue isn't available. Not even to us.”

“What’s the occasion?” Crowley asks from across the table and she frowns because it’s weird that her dad is organizing something without the knowledge of his caporegime. She wonders why this is. Aren’t they talking on a regular basis? 

Before she can dwell on it, her father answers.

“My daughter here,” He looks at her, and she manages to smile a small smile, one that’s not cringe-worthy — at least she hopes so. She doesn’t look around, doesn’t even want to see if Dean’s looking at her. He can stay fucking gone. And immediately, after thinking those thoughts, there’s a heavy feeling in her chest, something that really fucking hurts. “She’s celebrating her birthday and I want her to have a good one. We haven’t held a party in a long time, so brace yourself and go buy some good dancing shoes as it’s going to be a night to remember!”

Everyone cheered and she joined in, albeit very hesitantly. A gala? For her? Yeah right. She can’t shake the feeling that there’s more behind it. Something her dad doesn’t want to tell her.

The rest of the dinner went by smoothly. She drinks enough so the pain she feels is at least bearable. Every time Bela would ask her a question, she’d answer in short. Doesn’t really look at her friend. Bela doesn’t seem to notice, and it makes her wonder if she was ever a real friend at all, because she quickly turns to Dean, talks to him instead, laughing at his fucking jokes while she’s right fucking there. 

But again, can she really blame Bela? Nobody knows about Dean and her except for Dean, so the one she should really blame is him? How dare he fucking flirt with her friend right under her fucking nose!

Gah, Y/N gets madder, has to swallow her anger, preferably with more champagne. She’s eating a lot so at least she doesn’t think that she’s that drunk. Just really a good cloudy feeling that makes her forget what a clown she’s been these past weeks to think that what she has with Dean was one of a kind.

She scoffs, letting out a hiss of hot air as she drains her drink and sets it down as her father talks to one of the guests next to him. Thankfully the dessert arrives so she munches at that grumpily, ignoring everyone else around her.

After the dessert, they all move to the piano hall where a pianist is playing lazy tunes in the background and she walks around, greeting people she didn’t have a chance to greet before dinner. It’s her duty now, isn’t it? She’s in the family business, no chance of escape. She just wished she hadn’t fucked the family’s consigliere because that part still stings like a bitch. 

While Ed is talking to her about how Nick’s bummed he wasn’t allowed near the house during today’s dinner, she can see in the distance that Benny’s in a heated argument with one of his soldiers. Crowley’s wife is nearby, but soon abandons the two men to join the circle by her dad. Dean’s there, and of course Bela. 

_ Ugh.  _

She hasn’t spoken to Dean since she bumped into him on her way here. In hindsight, she should have bumped into him harder, maybe shoved him to the ground. Breaking his ankle or something. 

Ed’s still babbling away and she doesn’t even listen because her eyes are on Dean and his eyes are on Bela. 

_ God _ , how fucking stupid. She really deserves all this for falling for a man she shouldn’t even have fallen for in the first place.

Her dad empties his glass of whiskey and laughs as Dean tells them a joke. Bela throws her head back, laughs loudly and Y/N rolls her eyes, doubts that Dean’s joke is that funny because they usually aren’t, even if he insists that he’s hilarious. 

Bela grabs her dad’s tumbler from his grip and says something to him before she walks off to the kitchen. It’s about five seconds later that Dean follows her. 

That’s great. Just fucking great. She doesn’t even want to think about what they could do in the kitchen, now that the staff has cleared as the dinner is over. 

There’s a strange feeling in her gut and she doesn’t think it’s from the alcohol because her mind’s quite stable. She fucking knows that there’s something going on and it makes her nauseous. And the feeling is definitely not induced by alcohol. No, it’s because she feels used. Feels like she’s not enough, like she never will be enough for anyone. Feels like second-best yet again. 

  
  
  


____________________________________________________

  
  
  
  


When Bela leaves for the kitchen, Dean’s eyes are scanning the hall they’re in, and then he notices Y/N. Notices how she watches her friend trail off. 

Dean didn’t have time to look closer though, because he needs to follow Bela, so he averts his eyes from Y/N and follows the woman into the kitchen.

He arrives when Bela rummages through her small clutch nervously, searching for something he slipped out of it while he stuck to her like glue the whole night through. 

Holding the little flask up, Dean walks closer, “Are you looking for this by any chance?”

Bela literally jumps up upon hearing his deep voice cutting through the silence. He would have thought it’s funny if the whole fucking situation wouldn’t annoy him to death as it is. 

The woman turns around, braces her hand back on the counter as she smiles at him with her red lips. Dean recognized the color when he first saw it. It’s the same shade Y/N wore on the first night he tucked her into bed. It does look better on Bela. Not because it suits the woman better, more because Dean likes Y/N’s lips best when the color she wears is the one that is pink from kissing him. 

“Oh, there it is,” Bela chuckles nervously, “I thought I lost it. It’s medicine.”

Dean snorts. He strolls closer, stops just a foot away from Bela. 

Tilting his head to the side and up, he jerks it, “There’s a camera Bela. I watched you do this two days ago too. Do you think I’m stupid?”

Bela presses her lips into a thin straight line.

“Do you think you won’t get caught? Poisoning your own father too, really?”

“Who told you?” Bela’s eyes narrow as she hisses through gritted teeth. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Dean shakes his head and lets the flask drop into his suit jacket and Bela turns around, rummaging through her clutch again. Dean steps even closer, and braces his hands on the counter, caging her in. He leans in further, whispers into the woman’s ears, low and dark, “I got your pepper spray too, wouldn’t want you to spray me, would I?”

She lets out a sigh, “W-, we can talk about it, huh? You and me, let’s go back to my place, have a good time,” 

Dean chuckles darkly, “I wouldn’t fucking touch you with a ten-foot pole, Bela,” With his next breath, Dean adds, “Here’s what we are going to do. You and me, we’re going on a ride, okay? We’ll leave this place through the door on the left hand side,” He produces a gun from his holster, holds it to Bela’s back, “If you say another fucking word, you’ll be dead before you can even say that you’re sorry.”

He can hear her swallow and he chuckles again. 

Taking a step back, he waits for her to go ahead. Bela gathers her things, but he stops her, “No, give me your phone, but the clutch stays here. Pour the whiskey away and put the clutch into the pantry by your right foot.”

She might be a fucking traitor to the family, but she’s not that dumb because she really does what he says. Handing him her phone, Dean takes it. They disappear through the door and make their way around to the hallway before Dean leads her down to the garage. There, he pushed her against his car roughly in order to cuff her. 

“Oh, Dean, you like it rough, huh?” Bela snickers, “You know, you and me, we could have so much fun.”

“Shut your mouth,” He replies grumpily and pushes her into the car.

When Dean settles and starts the motor, he sends a text to Azazel. 

> _ D: Got her. Will take care of it. _

He lets the phone slip into his pants pockets before he fishes out Bela’s phone. While he looks at her, he breaks the phone in half with his bare hands and tosses the pieces to the backseat wordlessly. She swallows and Dean smirks as he drives off, “Hope you’re ready for this.”

Bela doesn’t say anything, instead, she just leans back, watching street lights go by. After a while of silence, she looks over to Dean, “Where are you taking me?”

“I have two choices. Either I kill you or I don’t. For now, I chose the second option, hope it’s worth it.” He says truthfully. 

“If they know, I’ll be dead anyway,” She shrugs, “So, why don’t we really have a good time together, huh? I can’t say that I haven’t noticed you, Dean.”

“Seriously?” Dean hisses, “I thought you were with Nick.”

A burst of laughter rumbles out of Bela and this time, it’s not the fake one like she showed him during the evening. 

“Oh my god, Nick, really? Well, we fucked, yeah, but ew, no, thanks.” She scoffs, “I’m with someone, but we’re not exclusive,” 

“Y/N told me you had a fiancée. That was a lie, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, little Y/N would just believe anything, she’s so fucking dumb. I’m surprised Azazel wants her in the business.”

He feels anger taking over, swallows it down because there’s no place for that right now, “She’s not dumb,” He says with the calmest of voices he can muster up, “She’s just not as ruthless as you are.”

There’s another laugh. It sounds fake, like the dozens of laughs he’s already heard from her. Dean thinks he can differentiate Bela’s laugh quite well after being on her heels for most of the night. 

“Oh, please,” Bela snorts, “She’s such a pushover and a people pleaser,”

“Shut up!” Dean growls, the anger slipping out of him a little. He’s not here to listen to a crazy woman talk bad about his girl.

The woman chuckles, “What? You don’t think it’s true? Come on, you got the hots for her?” When Dean doesn’t answer, Bela grins, “Oh my god, you do? Seriously? You think she’s going to let you fuck her?” 

Dean bites on his bottom lip, licks them before he grips the steering wheel tighter and increases his speed. This fucking drive is taking him way too long for his liking and he doesn’t want to spend more time with that bitch next to him than necessary. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean can see Bela watching him, and then there’s a squeal, “Oh my fucking god, you two already fucked, didn’t you?” 

He doesn’t answer, instead, he keeps on driving.

“Shit, you did! Oh god, I’m so jealous of her now. God, I bet you couldn’t be as rough with her as you want, huh? How was it? Did she just lay there and let you do it, like a lifeless doll?”

“Jesus Christ,” Dean slams his one hand on the steering wheel, “Just shut the fuck up, will you? And just so you fucking know and won’t talk bad about her, she’s the best fuck I ever had, okay? She’s probably better than you’d ever would be.”

The anger just spilled out of him and he couldn’t hold himself back. He didn’t even know why he said it. He doesn’t owe Bela a fucking thing. Dean just really hated the fact that Bela thinks that Y/N’s not worth his time, when she’s worth so fucking more. And maybe Dean also said it because he knows that Bela has no chance to tell anyone. She will never see these people again in her life.

“How will you know if you don’t try?” Bela lifts one eyebrow in question. 

“I don’t have to. You disgust me.” He mumbles. 

“That’s not nice, Dean. I bet I can show you things you only dream of.”

Dean snorts, “No, thanks, got plenty of that covered.”

Bela opens her mouth to say more, but she doesn’t because they are driving up to the warehouse and Dean’s never been so relieved to see that big ugly building.

“Where are we?” She asks as the door opens and two men are helping her out of the car. Dean gets out as well, follows the three figures before him as they make their way in. She looks back at him, “You’re going to kill me here?”

“Nobody’s killing you,” A stern female voice announces as they step in, “At least not when you talk to us.”

“Here,” Dean hands the flask to the man standing next to him and he takes it, drops it into a plastic bag, and seals it.

He can see Bela taking in the sight. Notices her watching the people working behind big screens, but he ignores her. Instead, he addresses his boss, “You got the footage I sent?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Naomi nods.

“Good, I leave this one to you. I don’t really care what happens to her, just so you know.”

“Azazel thinks you’re killing her?” 

“Yeah,” Dean notices that Bela has been dragged to sit down at Naomi’s desk. 

“Fuck me! You are a cop!” Bela shouts to him, “You’re a fucking cop! Azazel will fucking kill you!” 

“Right,” Dean nods, ignoring the hysterical woman completely, “I gotta go back, I have something else to take care of.”

“She’s in good hands with us,” Naomi says and smiles satisfactorily at Bela.

He leaves without another word, and it’s not even a lie when Dean said that he has something else to take care of. 


	22. Chapter.21

After Dean followed Bela into the kitchen, Y/N tried to distract herself, engaging herself in a deep conversation with the wife of one of the soldiers who admired her dress and wanted to know where she got it from. Sadly, she doesn’t know the answer to it either and to brag with a personal stylist is just not her thing. 

The distraction of chatting to guests doesn’t work though, because she catches herself staring at the door where Dean and Bela should have come out of, but they haven’t. She notices her father fishing out his phone though and he seems to be reading a message because he nods at his screen before he slides the phone back into his pocket. 

She wonders what’s going on and looks at the grandfather clock to see that at least ten minutes have passed. 

Curiously, she makes her way to the kitchen, even though she’s scared of what she might discover. Catching Dean with Bela in the act was really not what she hoped she’d see. Not on her fucking birthday at least. 

To her surprise, the kitchen is empty. There’s only one tumbler glass sitting in the sink. Nothing else seems to be out of the ordinary. They must have taken the other door out and ugh, she hates to do it, but she just wants to know if she’s right to assume the worst. 

Her heart is thundering in her chest as she makes her way out to round up the corner to the hallway where the offices are situated. There are people in the hallways as the first guests start to leave, so she pretends to casually walk to the bathroom as slowly as she can so that the people would walk past her. When the coast is clear, she grabs the knob on Dean’s office door and bursts in. She holds her breath, thinking that she’ll see them in the act, but breathes out relief when the room is dead silent. 

Closing the door, she makes her way up to the bedrooms and takes off her ridiculously high heels to be able to walk better. In front of Dean’s door, she wonders if she should knock, but again, why should she? She bursts right in there and again, it’s dark and silent. 

Next, she tries the garage, notices Dean’s car gone. 

Of course they would take off. Why should they stay and fuck here where everyone, and especially  _ she  _ could catch them? Oh god, she feels dumb. So fucking dumb. 

With a heavy heart, she returns to the party. 

  
  
  


*

  
  


More than an hour has passed without either of them returning. More and more guests are starting to leave. Benny and his soldiers already left quite some time ago, apparently, something about a shipment arriving and Nick’s the only one there so they needed to make sure that he doesn’t screw up. It seems like Nick causes more problems than he is useful. It makes her wonder why the dude’s still here at all.

Y/N decides to go back to her room. There’s no point in staying, really. She doubts that Dean will return and even if he does, what will she tell him? What could she possibly say anyway? 

She bids her dad good night and returns to her personal space. Maybe she can raid her fridge, see if Ellen left a container of ice cream in there or some chocolate bars. She’s not even hungry, she just needs to feel better and sweet things usually help.

As soon as she gets in and closes the door behind her, she throws her shoes about angrily before she strolls over to the bed, letting herself fall in headfirst, burying her face in the sheets, and has a good cry. By now, she doesn’t even care about the makeup stains she’ll leave, doesn’t care about anything anymore for that matter. The crazy thing is that she doesn’t even know why she’s crying? This is just ridiculous. Crying over a man? She should  _ not  _ be doing that. She has lived so long without a man in her life and she’s sure that she can carry on fine without one. Y/N just needs to remind herself that she should  _ not  _ get involved with someone from the family again. 

So instead of letting her emotions take over, she pulls herself up, switches on the TV and finds a music station before she walks over to her bathroom to wash her face. 

The woman that greets her in the mirror looks rough. Slapping her cheeks, she takes a couple of deep breaths and takes a fresh washcloth and runs it under the warm water before she wipes the stains of the tears away. 

When she finishes, she brushes her teeth and walks back out into her bedroom. She releases the knot on her dress and jumps when there’s a knock at her door. 

“Y/N!” 

_ Ugh. No. _

Instead of answering, she sits down on the edge of her bed, contemplating her next moves.

“I know you’re in there. Open up!”

Holding her breath, she listens as the seconds on her clock on the wall ticks by. He sounds distressed. Good.

“Baby, please, I need to talk to you. I’m risking so fucking much by being out here.” His voice gets lower, and is a little hushed.

She’s chewing away on the inside of her left cheek. On one hand, she would love to just swing the door open, on the other, she’d like to let him stew. 

“Please?”

_ God, _ why does he sound so desperate? And why does she get fucking weak? 

With an audible exhale, Y/N pushes herself up from her bed and walks over to the door. She opens the door just as he lifts his arm to knock again and stops to lower it down. 

“Oh,” Dean’s voice gets logged in this throat, his mouth stands agape as his eyes widen before they trail down her body.

Only now does she realize that her dress is half-open, one boob almost spilling out of the push-up bra. Why is she always half-dressed when she opens her fucking door, she doesn’t understand it herself. But in her defense, they tend to come knocking at the weirdest times. Why do they always come knocking when she’s not prepared?

She sighs and quickly wraps her dress back around, secures the knot loosely around her waist, “What do you want to tell me? That you’re sorry you fucked my friend? Oh, please, Dean, I don’t need to hear your excuses!”

“Jesus,” He growls, “Would you just—” Dean pushes her into the room, closes the door behind him soundlessly, and clicks the lock into place.

_ God _ , the rage is nagging away at her, she waves around with her hands as soon as he turns back around, “What the fuck are you doing in here?” 

“Shhhhhh!” He silences her with a hiss and holds up both his hands in a gesture that means he came in peace. 

Well, too bad for him. 

Crossing her arms over her chest, she balances her weight on one leg, tilts her head to the side, and raises her eyebrow, challenging him. 

Dean exhales loudly when he sees that she’s braced for a fight, rubs a hand over his face before he speaks, “I did nothing with her. I swear, alright?”

“Oh, right. Sure,” 

“Bab—”

“—stop! Don’t you fucking dare call me baby when you don’t fucking mean it!” She holds out a finger as a warning. 

“For god’s sake!” Dean throws his hands in the air and lets them drop to his side as he rolls his eyes, “I can’t believe this!”

“Wow, you fucked my friend and tried to say that nothing happened and now I’m the bad guy?” 

“I. DIDN’T— Fuck!” Dean almost launches at her, his one hand grabs her arm, fingertips digging into her flesh as if he’s afraid she’ll run away if he doesn’t hold onto her hard enough. 

“Hey!” She shouts and is shushed by him again before he drags her into her walk-in closet.

It’s as if he’s looking for something and when he finally finds it, he smirks a little.

“What are you?”

“—Shhhhh!”

Dean’s other hand that’s not holding her goes to her hangers, pulls them aside with the clothes still hanging from them as he pushes at the button that’s almost not visible, and all of a sudden, a door springs open. 

“What the—” Y/N gasps. She has never seen the door before, didn’t know that she had something like that in her room. Her dad never told her.

He pushes her inside, closes it. The little room is not big, maybe six by six feet, if she has to guess. No windows whatsoever.

“It’s a panic room,” Dean says as he releases her arm, “Your dad never told you this exists?”

The fact that she has a panic room in her bedroom is weird and to know that her dad kept it from her is alarming. 

“Is this the only panic room?” She asks, because if Dean knows about the existence of it, he must know if there are more.

“The only one.” He nods his head, “He really never told you?”

“No?” She rubs at the place he has been holding her too tight and he notices, takes a look in the sparse light. 

“I’m sorry,” He mumbles, rubs at her flesh. 

_ God, _ why does it feel so good? She gets weak when she has no fucking good reason to. 

Breathing evenly, she tries to calm herself down, tries not to let her heart rule her head. With her next breath, she asks, “Why are we in here?”

Dean chuckles, as he leans his back against the wall, his head too. He pushes his hands into his pant pocket and tilts his head lightly, looking down at her sideways, “So you can scream and be mad at me all you want without anyone hearing us.”

“That’s all? That’s all you have to say? You’re not even defending yourself?” She stands on the opposite wall from him, hugging herself as she looks straight ahead. 

“There’s nothing to defend if I haven’t done a fucking thing,” He shrugs and he says it so casually too. She begins to think that she’s in the wrong here. 

“You didn’t fuck Bela?” She raises her one eyebrow and looks at him.

Snorting, Dean shakes his head, “I would never,” And then he shudders, for the effect, she guesses. 

And weirdly, she believes him? She really does because Dean has never lied to her before. Had always told her the truth and even things he was not supposed to tell anyone.

She bites on her bottom lip, thinks about everything that happened this evening before she speaks. There’s still that feeling that nags at her guts, “You might not have fucked her, but you still hurt me.” 

“And I’m fucking sorry, I really am. You have no idea how much I wanted to tell you but I couldn’t! It’s your dad’s idea not to involve anyon—”

“—Since when do you follow orders, Dean!” She cuts in, and there’s a sound coming out of her throat that doesn’t sound human at all. Jesus, she’s so mad! “God,” Nervously, she starts to pace around the small room, “And there I was thinking it’s me, y’know? I’ve been feeling icky since I set foot into the dining hall and then I couldn’t miss the fact that you fucking ignored me! First I thought I was overreacting, thought that maybe it’s me. Perhaps I read too much into your behavior. And, and...fuck, I’m waiting on my fucking period and I feel like my hormones are all over the place and I feel like it’s fucking with my head!”

Stopping short, she looks at him, sees Dean opening his mouth to speak, but she holds out a hand and his mouth closes again as he stands back to let her talk.

“And when you disappeared with her? I thought, well, you know what? I didn’t overreact after all. You really did flirt with her under my fucking nose, and then you took her somewhere, probably to your apartment, where you said it was my space too, and you fucked her there! Gah!” She waves around with her hand, that’s just how upset she is about all of this.

“I would ne—”

“—I’m still talking! I’m not finished!”

Dean sighs, but he keeps his mouth shut. 

“So, do you want to say that I’m wrong? That you two didn’t fuck?”

“We didn’t,” He shakes his head, “All I did was catch her in the act.”

She stops her pacing to look at him, her brows furrows, “Catch her? What did she do?”

“Poisoned your father.” He said it in a weirdly calm tone of voice.

“What?”

“Yeah, I’m not supposed to tell you this,” Dean says and pushes himself away from the wall to only push her against the other wall that she tries to lean on, his hands braced on either side of her body, caging her in. He leans closer, whispers close to her ear, the smell of him intoxicates her mind, and she smells it, smells only him. No trace of Bela’s perfume is on there. That should mean something, shouldn’t it? It should mean that he’s telling the truth. “But I trust you so you’ll hear me out, okay?” 

“‘K,” She nods. It’s only fair, isn’t it? He let her rant and shout at him, and it’s only fair for her to let him speak too. Plus, she’s curious. She didn’t even know her father had been poisoned.

“Bela poisoned your father. I don’t know how long this has been going on already, but last time he was in Lazaretto, I got the doctors to check for signs of poisoning. I set up cameras where she could have done it and tonight was set up so I can catch her in the act.”

“Bela? But why?”

“We don’t know and I doubt that we ever will,” Dean whispers, “She poisoned Bobby.” 

“Uncle Bobby?”

“I’m not supposed to know and neither should you. Hell, your father doesn’t even know it, and it would be good if it could stay that way.” 

“Why are you telling me all this?” Her eyebrows knit together. 

Dean smirks, “Because I trust you.”

“But,” She shakes her head, “I just accused you of fucking my friend, well not my friend anymore, I guess, because I take it you got rid of her.”

He nods his head which suggests that he really got rid of her. Oh god, Bela. 

Y/N should be upset about it, right? Bela was her friend after all and the level of her not caring about it should scare her. Since when did she become so numb? No, she can’t bring herself to care about someone so heartless. But that, in turn, would make her as heartless as Bela, wouldn’t it? 

Her morality is all over the place and she’s confused to say the least. Dean did it? Did Dean get rid of Bela? What does that make him? What does that make her? What is right and what is wrong?

She doesn’t know anymore. All she knows is that she wants to forget it. She wants her head to clear out. Wants someone to make it all better.

Still caged in between his body and the wall, she looks him in the eye, “Why did you let me shout at you? Why didn’t you get angry that I accused you?”

Chuckling, Dean kisses her nose, and she lets him because she’s weak, “Because I know I didn’t do anything wrong and it looked like you needed to vent, so I’m happy to be on the receiving end.” 

“But you hurt me, Dean. You really fucking hurt me!” There, she said it again. Can’t possibly forget about it.

“I know,” He whispers, and one of his hands comes up to cradle her face. His thumb brushes against her lips, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” 

The tears start to pool in her eyes and one drop escapes, streams down her cheek. Dean brushes at it with his thumb.

“You made me think I’m not worth a fucking thing, like all the others do! You fucking hurt me!” She’s crying now and she pushes him away. Her hand balls into fists as she punches at his chest, “I’m so mad! I thought you never wanted me. I thought you used me to get to Bela!”

“Baby,” Dean shushes her and cradles her wet face between his palms, “I would never do that, okay? At least not deliberately. All I really fucking want is you!”

“How can you be sure? How can _ I _ be sure that you’re not doing that again?” 

“There’s no guarantee,” He says truthfully with an exhale of his breath, “I’ll never know what your father will make me do next, but I can guarantee you that all I fucking want is you, you understand?”

“Why? Why me, Dean?”

“Because,” He kisses her cheek, “When I’m with you I don’t breathe quite right. And it should scare me, but it doesn’t. I kind of enjoy the feeling of it. There’s something about you and I don’t know if it’s somehow in the way you walk, in the way you talk, in the way you carry yourself or in the way you smile at me. There’s something about you that takes my fucking breath away.” He kisses across her face, kisses her nose, her eyes, wet patches of her skin meets his lips before he rests his forehead on hers. 

Hearing this makes her heart beating furiously, and there’s the rumbling of something in her stomach. A feeling she can’t quite place. 

“Show me,” Y/N whispers, “show me, Dean. Show me how much you want me,”

“Okay,” Dean nods, “‘K,” He presses his body to hers before he claims her mouth, she can feel his heart beating as fast as hers in his own firm chest.

Weaving her arms around his neck, she pulls him closer, molds her body to his as she lifts one leg to hook it around his middle. 

The kiss is deep, it’s wet and rough, and she pours all the things she wanted to but couldn’t say into the kiss. She wants him to know that she feels the same way. That he makes her forget who she is when she’s with him. Wants to let him know that she has fallen so deep for him that she can’t find her way out, not even if she would try to. Wants to tell him that she wants to leave everything behind when there’s a promise of a future with him. Wants to let him know that she fucking loves him. Love with a capital L. 

“Show me,” She breathes into the kiss as she grinds her pussy against his straining bulge which makes Dean groan. His hands are all over her body, pushing and pulling at her flesh. 

With one swift turn, he has her pinned against the wall, her hands are now braced against the cold surface. He mouths at her throat, sucks in a patch of skin, but not hard enough to leave a mark. He always makes sure that there’ll be no marks, but little does he know that she’d love that. She’d love for him to mark her up properly, would love to be able to show everyone who she really belongs to. 

His hands are working on his pants. She knows because she hears the clinking of his belt buckle, hears the sound of his zipper being pulled down.

Wriggling with her ass, she tries to back it up against him, and Dean has to chuckle at her neediness. 

She hears him spit into his hands, hears him working the spit over his cock, drools at the image in her mind and is a little sad she can’t fucking see because he won’t let her. His one hand is on the back of her neck as he holds her pinned to the wall. 

Dean’s hand leaves his cock to pull the hem of her dress over her ass, lets out a hiss as he sees that she didn’t wear any underwear and she hears him cursing under his breath, “Fuck, you didn’t wear panties throughout the whole evening?” 

His hand threads through her folds, groans when he feels how wet she is. 

“You’re a fucking dirty girl, ain’t cha?” He growls as he grips his dick and threads the head through her slick pussylips, coating his shaft with her juices, “My dirty girl. Fuck, good I didn’t know. Would have been hard to play along and make people believe that I didn’t want you when all I fucking want is y— fuck!” With the last word, Dean pushes himself into her and she moans out, as she places her cheek against the wall and closes her eyes. 

She arches her back, giving him better access as Dean fucks into her. He leans in then, licks at the shell of her ear, “I want you, baby” He whispers hotly, his words make her shiver. 

“Christ,” He curses, “How can I not want you? How can I not want your pussy, huh?” Dean increases his pace as one of his hands sneaks around her body, fingers find their way between her thighs to rub at her clit. She clenches automatically around him at the feel, “So fucking good, baby, wrapping so fucking tight around me,”

_ God _ , the way he talks makes her head spin. She absolutely loves how he talks when he’s fucking her. And he knows it too, because he keeps on doing it. 

“Does it feel good for you too, huh? Do you know how much I fucking want you now?”

“Fuck—,” She bites on her bottom lip as he pushes in deeper, “Harder, fuck me harder, Dean! Love it. Love your cock, love to feel it deep inside me, fuck me harder,”

“Jesus,” He pants and changes his stance to be able to fulfill her wish, “You’re going to make me come sooner if you keep talking like that,” Dean takes both her arms, and weaves his own into them, securing them behind her back. In that position, she automatically arches her back more, so far that her head tips back a little and he kisses her temple while he fucks into her harder, faster too. 

The sound of wet skin slapping against each other is loud in the confined space. 

In this position, he hits her just right and he isn’t even rubbing her anymore, but she has the feeling that she’s going to come real soon. Coming on his fucking cock alone, this certainly never happened with Adam.

His hand is still holding her arms in the back, his other arm is wrapped around her front, while he kisses and licks at her face and throat. 

“Oh fuck—, oh fuck fuck—” She cries out, legs starting to tremble.

“Fuck,” Dean growls, “You’re coming, ain’t that so? I can fucking feel it, baby. Come,” He noses at her temple, “Come for me, so I can come too, I’m so close,”

Y/N closes her eyes, letting herself fall into that perfect bliss as she moans while Dean slams his hips against her in wild abandon. It’s rough, but so fucking good.

She comes with a squeal, her one leg shaking while she presses her thighs together, and there’s Dean’s grunt when he feels her squeezing all around him. He pulls her closer to him, as he spills his warm cum into her pulsing pussy. He trembles as he drapes himself over her, shaking with the aftermath of an orgasm, his dick still twitching with its release.

As soon as Dean releases her, she falls forward, braces her hands on the cool wall and lays her cheeks on it, welcoming the refreshing coldness of it. 

“Oh my god,” Dean breathes and leans closer, nudging his nose into her hair as his hands rubs all over her, kneading her flesh, “You okay?” He drives his fangs into her shoulder, kisses her there after to soothe the pain.

Chuckling, she turns her face back to look at him, sees him lifting his head from her shoulder to grin at her. He kisses her nose before he looks down to pull his dick out and she squirms at the loss.

It comes out with red smears, and there’s slight blood running down her thighs. The color is pink because it’s mixed with his cum.

Dean looks at her concerned as she turns around to face him, “You’re bleeding. Did I hurt you?” His hand rests behind the back of her neck as he presses his forehead to hers and voices his concern again, “Baby, did I hurt you?”

She shakes her head and chuckles. She doesn’t want to cry, but her tears just spill down. It must really be her hormones. 

“You’re scaring me. Please tell me if I hurt you,” Dean whispers again and she looks up to him as his fingers come up to brush away at her tears. 

“No, you didn’t,” Y/N says, “My period finally arrived. I’m just happy it did,”

“Oh, thank god,” Dean groans out and throws his head back to exhale while he pulls her close, letting her bury her face in his chest, “‘M glad I didn’t hurt you. How long have you waited on your period?” 

Looking up at him, she narrows her eyes in thinking, “Four days,”

“Jesus, and you didn’t tell me? You worried about this alone?” 

“I just, I didn’t think that you’d care,” She mumbles and buries her face back into his chest. She quite likes the place. Likes how he smells after they fucked. Well, she likes how he smells in general and not just when he’s freshly showered. She likes to smell the day on him. The sweat, the musk, the cologne, the deodorant. She likes to smell Dean. Period.

Dean wedges one of his hands between them, catches her chin and tips it up before he places a kiss on her lips, “I do care about you, so yeah, I’d care about that too. No more going through anything alone, okay? I’m right here.”

She nods her head. She knows that these little reassuring words are the only thing she gets from him, knows that the both of them don’t really have a future, at least not together as long as her father has a say in it, but strangely, for now, it feels like it’s enough. 

“Ugh,” Dean lets out a groan.

“What?”

“I need to clean up before I meet with your dad.”

“You have to meet him?” She frowns and he dips his head down, kisses at the place between her eyebrows. 

“I haven’t seen him since I got back. Came straight here. I bet he’s impatiently waiting and I can’t show up smelling like I just fucked his daughter.” 

Y/N has to chuckle at that. 

“Will you be okay? You still have sanitary pads? Enough tampons? Want me to go get you chocolate, a back rub?” 

She punches his chest, although a back rub sounds fabulous.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


Y/N let Dean clean himself in the bathroom first because as he said, he needs to go meet her father and she finishes changing herself into something more comfortable. Wearing the sleep shirt he gave her and a pair of boyshort panties.

She’s sitting on the bed and zaps through the channels on her TV when she hears a muffled voice coming out of the bathroom. 

After about two minutes, Dean comes out, looking a little confused. His eyes meet hers and he opens his mouth to speak, “It’s Benny. It has been Benny all along,”


	23. Chapter.22

“It’s Benny. It has been Benny all along,” Dean says as he tucks his phone back into the pocket of his slacks. 

He should have known this, shouldn’t he? He should have seen all the red flags and the fucking signs. In his defense, he really did and Azazel warned him too. He was just too busy juggling two things at the same time and one of the things is sitting on the bed right now, her bottom lip tugged in between her teeth, as she zaps through channels on her remote. 

Dean doesn’t blame her for taking up a huge amount of his attention. Can’t possibly blame her, because this is his own fault. It’s all on fucking him. Naomi did warn him. He was just too stubborn to listen.

Naomi just got off the phone with him. Apparently, Bela’s chatty, but that’s Naomi’s specialty. She can make every suspect sing and Dean’s not really surprised. If the woman wasn’t his boss and he didn’t know about her interviewing tactics, he would sing as loud as he could too, because the woman can be fucking scary.

The fact that Benny’s the one who’s trying to manipulate the family from the inside should have come as a surprise to Dean, but he’s not the least bit impressed. When he thinks back at how the guy acted, Dean should have seen it coming, although he has to admit that he got fooled by fucking stupid Nick.

Y/N stands up from the bed, walks towards him and they meet in the middle of the room. Dean almost got sidetracked when he saw the shirt on her.  _ His  _ shirt. It throws him off, making him not be able to think clearly for a minute. He absolutely fucking loves how she looks when she’s wearing his clothes. Would love to make it a habit if the circumstances of what they are would have been different.

The crease between her eyebrows deepens when she looks up at him with that puzzled look in her eyes, “What do you mean?” 

Dean sighs, his hand coming up to brush at the place between her brows, “Apparently, Benny is the one who got Bela the poison, the guy who got her to poison your father.”

“But why?” She asks and Dean can see that she has trouble understanding. She looks so adorable and clueless. It does weird things to his heart.

“Listen,” He lowers himself a little, braces his hand on the back of her neck, “Whatever I tell you, it should stay between you and me, okay? I want you to know that it shouldn’t go out to anyone. It is important that you trust me and I can trust you in return.”

Hesitantly, she nods. Almost too hesitant, but Dean can see in her eyes that she was hesitating because she tries hard to understand what the fuck is going on. 

Dean sighs before he speaks, “Benny somehow manipulated Bela into giving her own father little doses of the poison. If Bobby hadn’t figured it out on his own, it would have killed him. Benny wanted Nick to become the next consigliere. Then, I came along and changed his plans. The next good plan, I guess, was to poison your father and take over from the top.”

“Oh god,” 

“Shhhh, he doesn’t know that we’re ahead of him,” He takes his hand from the back of her head, fingers brushing against the loose strand of hair, and tucks it back behind her ear, “You act like nothing happened, okay? Just act like you usually would. I’ll take care of it.”

“But why would Bela do this?”

He chuckles, “Love.”

Y/N turns to walk back to her bed, sits on the edge. It makes her look small in the bed that would be too big for anyone. Dean follows her, kneels in front of her and lays his hands on her thighs, rubs up and down her skin. 

“Love?” She looks down at him, “You mean, Bela and Benny?”

He nods his head, “Yeah.”

Her hands are in her lap and she looks down, fingerpicking at excess skin around her nails on the one hand, “But I thought she had a fiancé?”

“—That’s what I thought, too. She fooled us all.”

“Love? You mean, she did all these things out of love? Poisoned her own father and mine for Benny?”

Dean reaches out to touch her cheek, knuckles brushing over her skin, fingers smoothing back her hair on the side, tucks it behind her ear, “Love can make you do stupid things. There are people out there who are good at manipulating and using other people, y’know? And Benny’s one of them.”

Apparently, Benny also physically abused Bela, but Y/N doesn’t need to know that. She thinks Dean killed her friend and it should stay that way. 

“I’m sorry, I just, I need a moment to digest.” 

He places a kiss on her cheek, “That’s okay. Just one thing. Benny never laid a hand on you, did he?” 

Shaking her head, she mumbles out, “No. Only Nick.” 

And they all know how Nick’s still suffering due to his broken wrist. Dean is glad to hear that Benny never touched her, because he doesn’t know if he would be allowed to finish his job when he kills the underboss next.

There’s a buzz in his pant pocket and Dean just knows that it’s Azazel. It’s already late and he really needs to get going.

“Baby, I have to go. Will you be okay?”

She nods, “Yeah, go.”

Dean nods back before he leans in to place a kiss on her forehead, lingers there a little longer than he has to. With a deep breath, he pushes himself up to his feet and opens the door to her balcony.

“Wait, Dean—”

“I have to go down this way, who knows who’s still around.” He lifts his leg over the railing and smiles at her before he jumps down. 

As soon as he lands, he fishes out his phone, and instead of calling Azazel back, he calls Y/N. 

“You gotta give me a heart attack one of these days!” She scoffs. 

“‘M sorry,” 

“Why are you calling me?”

Dean smirks, “Just forgot to wish you a good night. Good night, baby.”

  
  
  
  


*

  
  
  


“Sir,” 

Dean enters Azazel’s office and nods at his boss who is sitting on his own on the hideous couch, sipping on a tumbler of whiskey. 

He closes the door behind him, and walks closer and stands a safe distance away because he doesn’t know if her scent still lingers on his clothes. It surely still is in his nose, that’s why Dean doesn’t know if the scent he’s smelling is coming from his memory or the suit he wore while he made love to the man’s daughter.

“Get yourself a drink, and come sit,” Azazel points his chin to the little bar that’s standing in the corner of his office. 

And Dean’s not going to say no to that. He feels like a drink is what he fucking needs after what happened tonight.

He walks over, thinks that it has been a fucking long day which started at 5.30 AM. It was a great one at first, too. Taking her to the beach, spending some quiet alone time with her. It was good to just be with her in a place where nobody knows their names. Being somewhere where they can show what they really are to each other without having to act like they barely speak. He already misses it, wishes he can go there again and maybe never come back. 

Filling up his tumbler, he sits down in an equally hideous chair that matches the couch, with a grunt. It has been a long day after all and at one point, it didn’t seem like it would end. 

“To the family,” The boss holds out his glass, waits for Dean to clink his against it. 

And Dean does. Leans over, clink their glasses, “To the family,” He repeats. 

_ This fucking disturbed family _ , he thinks and takes a sip as he leans back in his chair. 

Azazel replicates Dean, sips, and sets his glass down onto the little glass coffee table in front of him, “How did she react?”

Dean’s rest his tumbler on the armrest, fingers playing with the edge of the glass. He thinks back, thinks of how Bela reacted when Dean surprised her in the kitchen. He exhales, smirks a little too, “She was stunned that I caught her,”

The King’s lips widen into a grin. Azazel shows his teeth too, they are a little yellowish, his fangs sharp, “Good.” He nods, and with his next exhale, he adds, “Did she talk?”

She talked plenty, annoyed the shit out of him on the way to the warehouse, that’s for sure. But Azazel doesn’t need to know that. 

Dean takes another sip, squints as the burning liquid travels down his throat. He smacks his lips before he speaks, “Apart from pleading for her life, no. She didn’t want to rat anyone out, which suggests that even if we didn’t get rid of her, that other person would have if they knew. There was no way out for her.”

The man pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, clicks his tongue against them after, “Yeah, we’ll figure it out, I have a couple of people on my list.”

_ A couple? _ Dean almost snorts out loud. What does it really say about an organization —  _ a family  _ as Azazel likes to think of it — if the boss knows that  _ a couple o _ f people aren’t happy and are working against him? He doesn’t say anything, though. It’s not his place and Dean doesn’t need for the man to put him on that list too.

“You sure nobody will find her?” Azazel asks, as if he doesn’t trust Dean. 

Well, the old man’s not wrong but still, it disappoints him that the man thinks Dean’s a fucking rookie. 

“Nobody ever will, sir.” 

The King nods again, “Good.”

Dean empties his glass, squints again, but he welcomes the burning sensation. He sets his glass on the table, “Well, if that’s all, sir. I’d like to get some shut-eye.” He stands up, waits for his dismissal. 

The dismissal doesn’t come. Instead, Azazel looks up to him, smirking a little, “My daughter had fun today, Winchester.” 

“Yeah?” Dean raises an eyebrow, wonders what Y/N told her father. 

“She didn’t tell me a lot as our relationship is not that great, you’ve probably noticed.” 

Oh, yeah. Dean knows. 

Azazel goes on, “Said it was one of her best birthdays.” He chuckles and leans back, drapes an arm casually over the back of the couch, “I’m a little hurt that it even tops the princess themed party I threw her when she was younger.”

Chuckling, Dean shrugs, “Sorry, sir. I tried to make it memorable.”

“She said she felt sand underneath her feet. You know, she’s never been. To the beach, I mean. Her mother always wanted to take her, but she has never gotten the chance. And when it was only me, I never thought that a girl would like to go to the beach.”

“She told me that. That she’s never been, I mean. She liked it a lot.”

Azazel nods, “It was a great idea. I’m sad I never thought of it.”

“I’m glad she liked it enough to tell you about it.” Dean smiles, “So, if there’s nothing else, I’m going to my room.”

The King nods, dismissing him and Dean breathes a sigh of relief as he walks over to the door. Just as he turns the knob, Azazel calls out for him again.

“Winchester?”

He turns around, “Yeah?”

“Don’t you think I’m an idiot and don’t know what’s going on under my roof, okay?”

Dean’s heart starts to drum hard in his chest. That’s it, isn’t it? He’s going to get killed tonight. On her birthday. And he can’t even say goodbye and tell her what he fucking feels for her. He’s going to die and he hasn’t had a chance to come clean about who he really is with her. 

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Dean opens his mouth to speak, “What do you mean, sir?”

Azazel starts to laugh, the deep rumble pierces through the silence, “Oh, please, don’t you think I know that you two fool around behind my back?”

_ Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. _

He swallows again, “Sir, I can—”

“—Don’t.” Azazel’s voice cuts in. 

Dean closes his mouth. 

The King stands up, walks over to where Dean’s standing. His feet are rooted to the floor, and he stands rigid like a fucking rock, unable to move. 

With every step the man takes, Dean thinks that it’s over and his mind goes to Sam too. 

_ Fuck _ , he should have taken on the bureau's advice and written up a fucking last will before he took on any undercover jobs at all. Problem is, Dean was young and cocky, always thought that he was invincible and since Sam didn’t want anything to do with him anymore as Dean told his brother about his first undercover mission, Dean never thought that Sam would want to hear about his will anyway. He wouldn’t have a will either, not having enough money to leave for anyone, but his will would be more of a letter. Letters to people he disappointed in life. Like his dad. Or Sam. Or now Y/N. 

Azazel’s right hand flies up to Dean’s cheek to cradle his face and Dean’s holding his breath.

The man pats his cheek twice, before his big hand wraps around Dean’s throat to work down, until he squeezes Dean’s shoulder.

“You like her, don’t you?”

Dean’s eyebrows rise. Is that a trick question? Is someone going to come out of their hiding place and point a gun at his head if he tells the boss the truth? He doesn’t fucking know! He feels nauseous and his mouth feels fucking dry. Plus, he thinks he’s sweating excessively. It’s a wonder Dean still has his bladder in check. How is it that to Dean, the man is scarier than being held at gunpoint? Dean can’t really explain the shivering he feels when Azazel's eyes meet his.

Swallowing, Dean thinks twice before he speaks, “I’m being honest here. Yeah, I like her.”

Azazel presses his lips into a thin line as he nods his head. He pats Dean’s shoulder and begins to walk taking two steps before turning around. The man’s hands are on his back and Dean can’t help but wonder if he’s hiding a fucking gun. 

He knows that he has two choices. Either Dean draws his own gun, and be quick about it. Before he could do that, though, it would mean that Dean needs to be absolutely fucking sure that he’s in danger. If Dean would draw his gun and Azazel has not planned to harm Dean, the man would think that Dean intends to harm him and —  _ bang _ , Dean’s dead. 

If he didn’t draw the gun and let Azazel do as he pleases —  _ bang _ , Dean’s dead.

There is no winning. 

“I appreciate your honesty,” The man grins and then he clicks his tongue against his teeth as if he’s thinking, “The only reason you’re alive, Winchester, is because you helped me,” The King says, after a very long pause. He then starts to pace around the room, “And another reason is that I can see that she’s happy. Maybe not tonight because you had your eyes on someone else and I saw how her light was dimmed, which suggests that she must like you too.”

Well, if Azazel noticed that, the others might have too.  _ Fuck _ , their cover might be blown.

“You know that it can’t last, right?” The King asks him with raised eyebrows.

Dean exhales, maybe the first time since forever, he doesn’t really know. But what he does know is that Azazel is right. It can’t. Not when they are both still here in his fucking  _ family _ .

“I know, sir.”

“Uh-huh, uh-huh,” Azazel nods and walks around, “Also, another reason you’re not dead yet is that I need you and I trust you.”

He should maybe be proud of it? If only Dean could fucking breathe right again he probably would be. Like father, like daughter, huh? Dean thinks it’s fucking ironic that both of them manage to take his fucking breath away. 

“Need me for what, sir?”

“To help me bring down the people who want to bring me down.” The man growls.

Dean could make it short, could point him to the right man, but he fucking can’t because Benny is part of a bigger picture. One that Dean needs to know more about because it’s demanded of Dean as that’s why he’s here. That’s why he still can’t break fucking free from the holds of the family and take her with him. 

Azazel comes back around to stand in front of him. Dean has to look down, as he’s got almost five inches on the older man. 

“You’ll be rewarded, I can guarantee you this. And I allow you to see my daughter until the gala.”

Allow him to see his daughter? Wow. Did he just whore out his own daughter to Dean? Unbelievable! Dean’s fucking disgusted, actually. Is thankful too that it’s him and not some sleazy bastard.  _ Jesus _ , he gets upset and angry. The man just said that he’s glad to see her happy, but still he would give her away like that? What kind of father does that? Well, Dean’s glad that he isn’t dead but still, who fucking does that?

“What do you say, Dean?”

Well, what  _ can _ he say? There’s really nothing to say but yes.

“Okay,” Dean nods his head and sees Azazel replicating his nodding. 

“Good,” The man says and steps back, “Go to bed now.”

“Right. Good night, sir.” Dean turns the knob and steps out.

“Oh, Dean?” Azazel calls out, making him stall mid-stride. 

_ What is it now? _ Dean’s too exhausted to even fucking think straight. Still, he pulls himself together, “Sir?”

“Only for two weeks.”

The man doesn’t need to elaborate because Dean knows. He fucking knows what’s happening in two weeks, doesn’t need a fucking reminder.

The gala is a big thing and it’s certainly not going to be held because the King wants to celebrate his daughter's birthday. Dean knows about it, knows that it is the very reason he can’t leave, and he hates himself for it, too. Hates to keep yet another secret from her. 

“I know.”

Dean closes the door behind him. Breathes out relief to finally get out of the lion’s den. 

He makes his way along the hallway, ascends the stairs, but instead of turning right down the landing to his bedroom, he takes the other turn and tries to turn the knob on her door.

It’s locked.

_ Good girl. _

It would keep  _ someone  _ out, for sure. But not him. He picks the lock, it’s easy to pick, too easy. Much easier than he thought it would be. He makes a mental note to tell the housekeeper to change it into something harder to pick, harder to get into. 

Slipping in quietly, he closes the door and locks it behind him before he walks over to her bed. She’s already sleeping, her lips are slightly parted, the neckline of his shirt that she’s wearing dips down her shoulder a little because it’s too big and worn out. 

Shedding his clothes on the floor, and placing his gun and phone on the nightstand, Dean slips into bed with her, spoons her from behind and she stirs as he wraps his arms around her under the sheets. Her body’s warm from sleep, it’s just what he needs right now.

“Dean?” She mumbles out the question, her voice sleepy and he has to smile that the first name she thinks of when someone gets into bed with her is his. 

“Yeah,” He whispers, nuzzling his nose into the back of her neck and breathes in her scent, “Shhhh, let’s sleep,”

Y/N turns in his grip, buries her face into his naked chest, her nose feels cold against his skin, “You’re not supposed to be here.”

He rubs along her back with one hand while his other one strokes the hair back from her face to place a kiss on her forehead, “It’s okay, your dad knows,”

“What?” She’s still mumbling, but it’s a little louder than before.

“Yeah.”

“You’re not dead.”

Dean chuckles, “‘M not.”

“He knows you’re here?” Her warm breath fans over his chest.

“He said I should go to bed. He didn’t say which bed.”

Dean can hear her chuckling softly as he rubs along her back. Slowly, her breathing evens out as she falls back to sleep. He kisses the top of her head and closes his eyes. Tries to clear his head from all the things left unsaid, tries to get all his responsibilities out of it, tries to only think of the girl in his arms and hopes that sleep will overcome him soon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm @smol-and-grumpy on tumblr! :)


	24. Chapter.23

It was three days previously that Dean woke up in Y/N’s bed with their limbs tangled together. She was snuggling to his side, her hair a mess around her and that was the first time he dared to reach over to his phone on the nightstand and take a picture of them together. First, he took some of her as she was curled up to his side before stretching out his hand to take a picture of him and her together, with him kissing the top of her messy hair. 

He debated with himself if he should set it as his phone's home screen, but decided against it. Not because he wanted to, but because it’s not safe to do it. So instead, he saved the picture into his secret folder on his phone to be taken out and looked at when he really needs it most. 

When he got out of the room, Max noticed him and raised an eyebrow to which Dean only shrugs. There’s no point in keeping it a secret anymore. Dean has got two fucking weeks and he swears he’s going to make the best out of it. 

Dean’s on his way to his apartment, having just come back from the meeting with Naomi. Bela is doing good, she’s still in custody and as soon as they get all the paperwork done, she’ll get a new identity and will be flown out of here to somewhere remote. The woman has been given a second chance. Dean hopes he won’t regret it and she won’t come back to haunt him.

There’s still no news about the boy or the girl he’s looking for and that’s never a good sign. If they manage to stay under the radar for this long, chances aren’t exactly good that they’ll turn up alive. At least not for the boy, and that really fucking annoys him. 

He’s never going to be able to save them all, is he?

Y/N’s car is already here. He doesn’t know how long she’s been here, hasn’t had time to talk to her since last night. 

On the way back, Dean stopped to buy groceries, since they’re allowed to be what they are, at least for a short time, he thought they could make his apartment a little homier. Of course, Azazel and his people still don’t know about this apartment, and they never will. So in a way, it’s still their little secret.

When he turns the lock, he’s greeted by shoes carelessly tossed about the entryway. A jacket is draped over the couch and there’s a bra laying on the coffee table. 

Right by the door to his bedroom, there’s a pair of pants that’s laying inside out because she probably peeled the tight fabric from her legs.

Dean takes his own shoes off and walks into the apartment on his socked feet and sets the grocery bags down on the counter. When he reaches the bedroom, he stalls by the door, leaning against the frame as he watches her. 

She’s laying on her stomach, reading a book he knows she got from Bobby, her panties still on but they don’t cover much, her asscheeks poking out of the fabric. The shirt she’s wearing is one of his, probably found it buried in the closet. 

“You’re messy, you know that?” He asks, but he grins as she tilts her head back to look at him. 

“I know,” She says simply just like the princess she is. 

It’s not like she’s dirty and messy. She just tends to leave things lying around and Dean thinks he can look past that, probably has to because she doesn’t know better.

He takes off his jacket and throws himself onto the bed next to her as she abandons her book, but stays on her stomach and braces herself on her elbows while she looks down on him.

His hand goes up, brushes at the strand of hair that obscures him from her face, “How are you?”

“Good,” She replies, and leans down, kisses him soft and gentle, parts after a second. 

It didn’t last long enough for his liking, so he grabs her by the back of her neck, pulling her into him again, kisses her rougher, harder, more demanding and she giggles at his affection. 

Y/N’s half leaning on top of him as they part and she strokes his hair as she places a kiss on his nose, “You know what?”

Dean frowns, “Huh?”

She leans over him, her hand is still stroking his hair while her other hand rubs along his scruff. He likes that, likes to be touched by her.

“My period is over,” 

Wordlessly, Dean pushes himself up and wrestles on top of her, pinning her down. His chest pressed to her back, his groin grinds on her ass. He dips his head down, nuzzles his face into her neck, kisses her there, and works around, sucking and biting at her throat, “Fucking finally!”

There’s laughter coming from her, her body shakes underneath him. God, he likes the sound. 

“Not now, Dean!” She’s still giggling, scrambling to get away, and he knows she can’t move because he’s so much bigger.

He laughs too. 

“Dean, seriously, get off!” Her voice is a little louder now. 

“I hope I will, sweetheart,” He says cockily and presses his lips to her pulse point, sucks it before he lets it out with a pop, and rolls off her. 

Rolling onto her back, she looks up at him, her hair’s in disarray, her cheeks are flushed from the struggle. She looks absolutely adorable and he can’t help himself, has to duck down, kisses her again and she lets him, grants him access by parting her lips. 

The kiss deepens, it gets wetter, messier and well, now he’s really hard and it has been so long since he made love to her last and it wasn’t even  _ love making _ . It was raw animalistic fucking — which he doesn’t necessarily hate, but he doesn’t love it that much either, not with her. No, she’s different. Dean has reached a level of ease and contentment with her that he’s never felt before with anyone. The fact that he is indeed in love with her and that this whole thing isn’t just a fling should scare him. And he is. He’s absolutely fucking terrified of what will happen when he has to come clean to her. Absolutely terrified that she’ll shut him out. Terrified, that she’ll hate him as much as Sam does.

He pushes the thought out of his head, though, smiles an easy smile and nuzzles his face into his neck, “Come on, you hungry? Let’s cook something.”

“Cook?” She sits up straight, thinks she’s hearing things and there’s a crease between her eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Dean chuckles as he pushes himself up too, reaching out to rub his thumb over the place where her eyebrows knit together, “You heard me.”

Y/N lowers her chin to her chest, it makes her look like she has two other sets of chins. And he’s not even appalled. On the contrary, he thinks it’s fucking cute. With a pout, she mumbles, “Dean, I don’t know how to cook,” 

Her chin sinks lower, if that’s even possible, out of embarrassment.

That’s not what Dean thought would happen and he feels a pang of guilt hitting him square in his chest.

Reaching out a hand, he places his thumb and forefinger on her chin, cups it, making her look up at him, “Baby, I know that.”

“I can’t be what you want me to be,” She’s still mumbling.

“Jesus,” Dean exhales before he presses his lips to hers, kisses her quick and hard, “I don’t want you to be anything else but you, okay? I just want to teach you some basics.”

Her chin’s still in his hand as she frowns, “Teach me?”

“Yeah,” Dean chuckles, “Teach you. Cooking, cleaning, laundry.”

“Why?”

He has to grin, kisses her nose before pushing himself up on his feet, “Because I want you to know how to do all these things. One day it might come in handy.”

It’s a white lie. Bears only some truth. Fact is, Dean knows how this all might end. He also knows that he’s going to try to do everything he can to shield her, to save her. Fact is also, that perhaps, when this is all over, she’ll be on her own. She has to be able to fit herself into a new life, has to somehow survive a life without a 24 hour chef or a maid. And he wants her to know how things work, it would help him sleep better at night to know that she’ll survive, come what may.

“What if I’m bad at it?” 

Dean stretches out his hand, waits for her to take it. When she places her hand into his, he pulls her up, his other hand weaves around her waist, “You’re pretty smart, I’m sure you’re going to excel my classes.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,”

He pulls her along as they are making their way into the living room.

They come to stand at the counter and Dean unpacks the groceries. She looks at the packet of Spaghetti he bought, “Is there a test at the end of your class?”

Snorting out a laugh, he starts to fold his sleeves back, “Yes, there will be one.”

Her eyes widen, “I will need some extra credit.”

“Baby,” Dean chuckles as he pulls her close, kisses her forehead, “You’ll be great. If not, there’s going to be some spankings.”

“What if I’m deliberately bad because I want that spanking?” Y/N grins a cocky grin, pulls her bottom lips between her teeth, and it’s not fair because Dean hates that look. Hates how he gets weak when he sees it.

“C’mere,” He grabs her by the waist, pulls her close and kisses her. His hand travels down the small of her back, rests on her buttocks as he kneads them roughly. She moans into his mouth. Dean can’t say that he’s not hard, because he is, his dick swelling in his slacks and she knows because she presses her crotch closer.

The thing is, if he doesn’t stop now, they will never get anything done so he brings his hands down on her ass, spanks her once, hard and she yelps up, drives her teeth into his bottom lip, which makes him groan out. He kisses her, but only quickly, parts with a suck to her tongue, “That’s just a taste of what you’ll get when you finally shut up and help me cook.”

“Ugh,” She groans out and rolls her eyes as Dean releases her from his hold.

He bends down and opens the pantry, takes out the pot and hands it to her, “Fill it with water, we’re making spaghetti.”

“But the sauce is hard to cook?” She whines.

“We’re not doing anything fancy.” Dean says and produces a jar of sauce out of the pantry from above his head, “Just the basic, really. We’re doing it freestyle, chopping up some vegetables and warming it in the ready to serve sauce.”

Taking the pan, she fills it up with water while Dean takes out the chopping board and knives. 

“You’ve done that before, right?”

Dean chuckles, “I grew up like this. I don’t really cook by recipe and I don’t like wasting food as I didn’t grow up having a lot of it. So sometimes, I’d go out and buy the sauce and just mix up things into it that I can find in our fridge.”

“Our?”

“What?” 

“You said  _ our  _ fridge.”

He sighs, “Yeah, Sam and me. Well, my dad too. He wasn’t around that much so mostly it was Sammy and me.”

“‘M sorry,” She mumbles and with her next breath, she asks, “Is that enough water?”

Looking into the pan, Dean nods, “Put it on the stove.” He watches her do it and then she turns to him. “What do you mean you’re sorry?”

“I don’t know,” Y/N exhales, “It’s just, I grew up having everything and others they don’t and I feel so bad,”

“Hey,” Dean abandons the knife, “Baby,” He places his hand on the back of her neck, draws her close and she wraps her arms around his middle, buries her face into his chest. God, he likes that, likes how she hugs him, “It’s not your fault, okay and I’m actually really glad you feel that way.”

“Why?”

“It shows me that you possess empathy. You care about the people around you, unlike the people you grew up with, and that’s a great trait. Don’t feel bad because you didn’t have a choice, okay?”

She nods into his chest and when she parts, Dean notices that her eyes are glistening. He kisses her forehead, lingers there longer than he has to. For her, as a reassurance, but also for him because he means every word he says and he wishes that she wouldn’t be so hard on herself. 

  
  


____________________________________________________

  
  
  


They sit down at the dining table and Y/N waits until Dean takes a bite. 

She was responsible for the pasta and helped chop some carrots. Helped with adding different spices to it to make it tastier. Dean told her how to test the spaghetti, but she wasn’t sure if she'd done it right. Which is really dumb because how can you screw up pasta. You boil it in water and have to take it out at the right time, right? There’s not much to screw up, but she’s still worried that she did. It wouldn’t surprise her. She’s a big screw up when it comes to things like that. 

Dean pokes his fork into the bowl, twirls the pasta around, before he blows at it and he pushes the fork into his mouth. He’s well aware that he’s being watched by her and he grins as he chews. It’s weird but somehow, she likes to watch him eat. Dean’s always happy when he eats. 

“And?” She looks at him expectantly, her forehead creases. 

He swallows it down and the grin's even brighter, “It’s perfect.”

“Liar,” Lowering her head, she smiles to herself, feels a rush of blood shooting up to her face. 

“No, really, it’s really good for your first time.”

Y/N twirls in her own bowl, scoops up enough to push it into her mouth. It’s Dean’s turn to watch her and he does so while bracing his elbows on the table, still holding his work in his hand as he rests his chin on his hands. There’s an easy grin on his face as he watches her chew and really, she hates that. Hates to be watched while eating. Especially spaghetti because there’s just no sexy way to eat it. 

She takes her time to chew, really savors the taste while she looks at him. He frowns as he watches her taking her time. 

“Good?” He digs into the bowl again himself, twirls his fork and scoops up a mouthful to push it into his mouth. 

“Yeah,” She smiles around the bite, chews some more before she swallows it down, “It’s really not bad.”

“I’d say you earned an A.” Dean says after he swallows, only to dig in again. 

“Only an A?” She lifts her one eyebrow, looks at him with a grin that she knows makes him weak. 

“Stop that, I’m eating,” He growls.

She doesn’t stop.

Dean rolls his eyes playfully, “Well, you can get some extra credit, might lift it up to A+.”

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


They finish eating, but her plate’s still half full. She was not that hungry, and besides, she was too excited to eat because she looks forward to what comes next.

While she carries the plates back to the sink where Dean’s doing the dishes, she asks, “Do you have to be anywhere today?”

“No, the meeting got canceled,” He turns to her, grins so deep that his dimples are showing, “Why?”

She feels another flush decorating her face, as she sets down the plates, and shrugs, “Just asking,”

“Sure,” Dean huffs out, but she knows that he must know why she asked. They’re going to have time to themselves, without any curfew. First time since he told her that her dad knows. 

Which is still weird to her. The King knows, but he doesn’t say anything. Does that mean that he’d accept Dean? Does that mean that she can be with him? She doesn’t really know, doesn’t dare to ask in case it’ll blow up in her face.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


After they’re done with cleaning up, where she helps him drying the dishes, Dean turns to her, “You know what? Why don’t you go and continue with the book. I don’t have to be anywhere, but I still gotta make a couple of phone calls.”

“Do you?” It comes out a little whiny, she can’t really help it.

Dean chuckles as he reaches out and hooks his finger into the neckline of her shirt — it’s actually his shirt, she found it in the closet and she thinks it’s much more comfy than the shirt she came here with — and pulls her close, kisses her, the taste of the food still on his tongue. He parts with a suckle to her tongue, pulls it into his mouth. God, she can’t get enough of his kisses. 

“I’ll be right with you, promise. They won’t take long but I gotta do it, otherwise, your father will be on our case.”

She licks her lips, tugs them in between her teeth as she nods, “‘K,” 

Dean kisses her forehead before she turns around to walk into his room.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


Y/N can’t concentrate on her reading with Dean’s voice outside of the door. He is talking to someone, is probably mad at something and he gets loud, shouts and growls in anger. It’s something she hasn’t experienced with him. Not yet. He was never mad at her, was never really shouting at her. He only let her shout at him once. He was always respectful, always soft. She can not imagine how he is with other people. Does he shout at them a lot? Does he threaten them? She doesn’t know and she’s not sure if she wants to. To her, he’s soft, caring, he’s everything she wants and she’s happy that he wants her too. 

Her period is over and usually after that, she falls right into her fertility cycle which makes her horny, she can’t really help it. When Dean was laying on top of her and made it clear that he would have taken her then, she didn’t want to admit that she wanted him too. And she still does. Wants him so bad, but she doesn't want their relationship or whatever they have to be only about it. She wants to see if he’s really in it for her and he is, and has held him back all this while, while she almost imploded because of her needs.

It has been almost thirty minutes now and she’s getting impatient. And to be honest, hearing Dean growling and shouting does not help because it turns her on even more.

Slipping the shirt over her head, she tosses it onto the bed. Next, she slips out of her panties, sees that they are wet. Thinks that she’ll surprise Dean this way but she doesn’t dare start without him. Besides, touching herself doesn’t have the same effect his hands have on her.

After a while, she hears that the calls are over, hears him walk around and she positions herself, lays across the bed, head facing the door, but still on her stomach. 

The door opens and Dean pauses mid-stride.

He looks at her, and she feels bold, gets on her knees and arches her back, silently hoping that it looks seductive. There’s something in his eyes, they get darker, hungrier. 

“I didn’t know that dessert was waiting for me here. If I knew I would have ended the call earlier.”

She chuckles, “What did you think you’d find?”

“I was thinking you’d fallen asleep,”

“What would you have done if I had been sleeping?” She asks, arches her back, does a crazy dance on her knees that she should probably be ashamed of. 

“I’d probably lay myself next to you, take a nap too,” He says as he walks closer, an easy grin on his face, “But since you were waiting for me, how about you suck my dick, huh?”

Y/N bursts out laughing and Dean’s cheeks flush a little. It’s really cute. And she likes that, the playfulness even if they’re having or going to have sex. It’s easy with him. 

He still walks closer with his cute ears that are turning red as he sticks his crotch into her face, and mumbles, it sounds almost whiny, “Come on, suck it,”

With a grin, she presses her lips to his crotch, right where the bulge is visible, drags her tongue over his clothed dick and Dean groans out. She can feel his cock getting harder under his slacks. 

His one hand comes down to pet her head, smoothes back her hair. Dean clears his throat before he speaks, “Come down here, get on your knees,”

Taking two steps back, he gives her room to kneel down. She goes down willingly, gets on her knees while her hands work on his belt. 

Looking up, she sees him unbuttoning his shirt, pulls it out from his pants and takes it off, tosses it to the side while his eyes never leave hers.

Dean goes back to watching. Toes off his shoes as her fingers pull at his zipper, feeling his hardness through the thin fabric of his pants as she slides it down. 

She opens his pants, helps him slide them down his hips and Dean steps out of them, takes his socks off too while he is at it. There’s a dark patch on his grey underwear, where the tip of his dick rests.

“Go on,” His voice comes out low, a little shaky too.

The scent of his arousal sits heavy in her nose, and her mouth starts to water. Nodding, she licks her lips as she hooks her fingers into the elastic of his underwear, pulling it down, letting his dick spring free.

They both have to chuckle as the tip of it almost hits her nose as it bounces upwards and slaps wetly against his lower abdomen.

Dean’s scent gets stronger, floods her nose as she pulls the underwear down and Dean gets out of them too. 

Her hands travel up his thighs and he trembles visibly. She realizes that it doesn’t happen often that they do this while both of them are naked. Almost all the other times were spent doing it while they both wore something. 

Y/N decides to seize the opportunity, rakes her nails up and down his thighs until Dean shudders, his dick jerking to the motion.

“You’re killing me here, princess,” He growls and she can see his hands grabbing at the side of his legs, nails digging into his muscled thighs.

Chuckling, she sits lower, her ass touching her feet. 

“Yeah, just like that, sit nice and low,” Dean breathes out, his voice husky warm.

_ God _ , it really does things to her.

His body keeps trembling the longer she teases him with her nails. 

When she’s had enough herself — because she keeps drooling and Jesus, she wants to taste him so bad — she buries her face right in there, licks and sucks at his balls first. Sticking her tongue out, she twirls it around the heavy sac, sucks in one then the other, eliciting a sound from Dean that sounds like something’s dying in his throat. 

“Jesus, you really like to take care of the boys, huh?” Dean chuckles as he regains his composure and she hums her approval, making him groan some more, “That’s it, that feels nice,”

She grins up at him with a ball in her mouth, releases it with a lewd popping sound before she licks up his shaft. Her hand travels up his thighs, grabs him by the base of his dick to hold it steady before she twirls her tongue around his tip. The taste of pre cum is strong on her taste buds, and she swallows it down before she licks at the tip again. 

“Spit on it, make it nice and wet, baby,” 

That’s not a hard thing to do. She has enough spit in her mouth from all the drooling that she has done, so she lets drool drip from her mouth to his dick, rubs it all over, jerking him off wetly.

Holding his dick still after a while of jerking, she wraps her lips around the head of his cock, savors his taste as she works him in further, hollowing out her cheeks as she does, working the part of him that doesn’t fit into her mouth with her hand, jerking him off with the same motion as she bobs her head. 

Dean places his hand on the top of her head, helps to guide her, but doesn’t apply pressure.

“Rub yourself while you suck me off,” 

It isn’t exactly a command, but more a guide because he probably noticed that she was squirming and pressing her thighs together, desperate to feel that friction. 

Y/N does what she’s told. The hand that’s not jerking his dick goes to her pussy, threads her fingers through her folds. God, she’s soaked down there. She finds her clit, starts to rub at her nub in the same rhythm as she swallows him down. 

“That’s it, just like that,” He whispers, “Good girl,”

“Mmh,” She hums around his dick, threads her hand through her slick and sinks one finger in to fuck herself with it.

Soon, she eases in another finger and she’s so wet, the sound of her fucking herself is louder than the slurping sound she makes while she gobbles him down.

“My god,” Dean whispers, his knuckles brush against her cheeks and she looks up to meet his eyes.

The eyes are dark as he smiles, “Does sucking my cock turn you on, huh?”

“Mmh-huh,” She moans her approval with his dick still in her mouth, slurping down her drool audibly.

“You’re such a dirty girl, my fucking god, your mouth feels so good,” He pets her hair again, “Look at me, stick your tongue out,”

She takes her fingers out, rubs them around her clit lazily while she sticks her tongue out. 

Dean’s other hand that’s not on the top of her head grips around the base of his dick, slaps it wetly against her tongue. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, look at you,” He groans while he slaps it on her tongue again and again, rubs his cock head on the velvety smooth surface, “You really like sucking my cock, don’t you baby?” His eyes are a little darker, his lustful gaze sends shivers down her spine. 

“Uh-huh,” Y/N nods her head, still leaving her tongue out like a good girl she is for him. 

He rubs his dick around her mouth, making her inhale the heavy tang of his pre cum as the tip of it is right under her nose. God, it makes her all fuzzy inside. 

Just when she thought he would let her get another taste, Dean pulls away, stepping back with a ragged breath.

Fisting himself, he looks at her. His gaze bears fondness in it and she gets all flustered, has since stopped touching herself too and sits there, her ass on her feet, her hands on her knees. She keeps on drooling, the sight of him jerking himself off is so fucking sexy. It turns her on so, so much. The way he has his hand wrapped around his length, the way he twists his hand just below the tip only to twist it back and go back down. The muscle in his chest and arm is moving to the rhythm. 

It’s the first time in weeks that she’s seeing his scars too, it reminds her that he’s been through so much and yet, he chooses to risk everything for her. 

Dean swallows, pushes some words past his lips in a growl, “On the bed, on all fours,”

Nodding, she slowly gets up, climbs onto the bed, her head faces Dean.

“No, baby, the other way around. Ass up,” He chuckles, his hand working his lengths. God, the sight and sound makes her drool even more. 

Y/N nods, but before she can turn around, Dean grabs her by her throat with his free hand, leans down, kisses her deep and rough, moans into her mouth at the taste of himself and she swallows it all. Swallows all the sound he makes, thinks it’s something she needs, something she wants to hear more of. It’s raw, it’s needy, it’s... because of her.

“Turn around,” He whispers into the kiss, parts with a tug of his teeth on her bottom lip, “Move further in,”

His fingers graze along her cheek, thumb brushes at her lip as she nods and turns around, crawls along the bed to be right in the middle.

She also does what she’s told. Sticking her ass up in the air, while she lowers herself onto her elbow.

Dean groans behind her, and she’s a little ashamed, she can’t lie about that. She’s bare to him, showing and offering him her most intimate part and that is a huge thing for her. He doesn’t sound like he minds. He sees her the way she’s never seen herself as. He treats her like she’s something great. 

The mattress dips behind her as the sound of him jerking off is still loud, but there’s another grunt when she feels him walking closer.

Then she feels it, feels his big hands on her ass, kneading it, fingers digging into her flesh as she jiggles her globes around.

“Fuck,” Dean breathes out, “Look at you,” 

His hands leave her ass for a second, only to bring them down hard, spanking her with his palms. She yelps up, arches her back at the pain. He does it twice more, always kneads and rubs it after, easing the pain before he bends lower, kisses her where she’s sure he left his handprints on her. 

“Fuck, Dean,” She moans below him, wriggles her hips because she wants more. She wants him on her, his mouth, his tongue, his fucking dick but he’s stalling, dragging out the moment.

But then she feels it, feels his hand thread through her folds, and he groans again, “Jesus, being spanked turns you on, baby, huh? You’re so fucking wet,”

God, yes it does. 

“Uh-huh,”

“Yeah?” His thumb toys at her entrance, letting it slip inside and god, it feels so good already.

“Yeah,” 

When he withdraws his thumb, she lets out a whine and Dean chuckles. He places his big hands right back to her ass, spreads them apart and dives right in between. His tongue plays with her clit, carves its way between her folds to lap at the excess wetness around her pussy. He groans out hot air as he eats her out, the added warmth makes her pussy clench. 

Dean eats her out like he means it, french kissing her pussy, driving his tongue into her, and god, it’s so wide and thick. She moans out against the sheets, hands fisting in it for purchase.

It’s when he rubs at her clit with his fingers while he toys with his tongue around her asshole that she’s losing it. 

“Fuckfuckfuck,” She breathes out, teeth driving into her own bottom lip, “Dean, god, I’m—,”

She couldn’t even finish her sentence because her legs start to shake violently and there’s the massive wave of orgasm that rushes up her spine. She tunes out her surroundings for a second, only to be jolted back by Dean turning her around and spreads her knees apart, driving his dick into her slick pussy as she’s still coming. Her body jerks with aftershocks and he lays himself down, kisses her throat and cheeks while she’s trembling. 

He braces himself up, hands smoothing back her hair as his face hovers above hers and he rains kisses on it. Kisses her brows and in between, moves down to her nose, her cheeks, her lips. Dean doesn’t move just yet, it would be hard, she thinks, because her pussy clenches around him.

Dipping his head down, he kisses the sensitive spot below her ear, “I love to be inside you when you come,” He says, his voice husky and smooth, “Love how you clench around me, baby,” Dean moves, begins to pull his cock out just to push back in, presses his pelvis to her cunt, getting so deep it makes her body jerk and she flinches.

Of course he notices that, stops and pulls himself out a little, “Too deep?”

Y/N chuckles, shakes her head no because she can’t even answer, her mind has run out of words, but she wraps her arms around him, pulling him closer, hooking her legs around his waist, making him reach her deeper, driving her nails into his skin, marking him up too. Because she’s his and god, he is hers. 

Dean breathes into the crook of her neck as he fucks her, deep and slow and somehow it’s just what she needs. She can’t not lie, she likes it when he’s rough with her, but she loves this too. Loves how he fucks her slow and deep, loves to feel his heart beating on her chest, loves to know that she’s not the only one affected by him. 

It’s unlike the last times they did it. It’s raw, affectionate. It’s not fucking, she thinks. It’s love making and she can’t get enough of it either way.

He kisses her throat and braces himself up on his elbow, one hand goes down to knead at her tits, fingers playing with the little hard nub there while he stills inside of her. It’s driving her crazy and he knows because he chuckles. 

“Dean, move,” 

“Nuh-uh,” He shakes his head, pulls out enough for him to be able to dip his head down and play with her tits. He sucks in a nipple, nibbles on it, making her arch her back and he has to push forward so as not to slip out. 

Kissing up her body, he sucks at her throat, not enough to leave a mark and she knows that he’s been careful to leave them where someone could see. Now since her father is okay with it, doesn’t mean that he’ll be delighted to see any marks on her body. She thinks it won’t sit right with him. Because in the eyes of her dad, even if she’s with Dean, he doesn’t have the right to own her in any way, shape or form. Little does her dad know that she is already Dean’s. With all her heart, body and soul.

“Why?” She pouts and wriggles her hips.

Dean kisses her, claims her lips, as he molds his body to hers, presses so close that their hearts beat as one. 

Breaking the kiss, he kisses her nose, and leaves his forehead on hers, “Because I love that. Love to just be inside of you. I wanna enjoy it.”

His words are triggering something inside of her and a rush of blood rushes up to her head. He doesn’t move, but he grinds and she pushes back, rubs her clit against his pelvis.

“Can you do me a favor?” He asks with a whisper.

“Anything,” She says way too quick, but she means it.

He chuckles at her enthusiasm, leans down to kiss her nose again, “I want you to remember this. Remember us. How we are right now in this moment, okay? I want you to remember me, like this just as I will remember you. And no matter what will happen,” He places a soft kiss on her lips, “This right here. This is us.”

Her eyebrows knit together, a slight frown sits between her eyebrows and Dean quickly kisses it away. Before she can ask what he really means, he molds his lips to hers, kisses her deep but gentle, pours his soul into the kiss because she can feel it.

“Go on,” He says, “Rub your clit, make yourself come on my cock,” And then he braces himself back on his elbow, giving her enough room for her to wedge one hand inbetween them. 

His eyes watch her as she begins to rub at her clit and the position they’re in is something else. She thinks it’s the closest she’s been with him, ever.

It doesn’t take her long and soon her pussy clenches around him. 

“That’s it, just like that,” Dean whispers, kisses her cheek, the corner of her lips, “Good girl,” He whispers against her skin, “My good fucking girl,”

She comes with a choked moan, her pussy clenches and she gushes all around him. 

“So good,” He mumbles encouraging words, kisses her again, deep and lazy. It’s the same way he fucks her now, fucking her through her orgasm, and with a bite to her lips, Dean comes too, grunts into her mouth as he spills his cum deep inside of her. 

Instead of pulling out of her, Dean turns them both around without slipping out, making him lay on top of him, her legs on either side of his body as she lays her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, his fingers lazily stroking her back. Up and down. Up and down. Neither of them said a word. It’s like they didn’t need words. No words would have been enough for the moment they're in. 

It’s when she feels like his soft dick will slip out that she sits up, braces her hands on his chest, because she doesn’t want that, she’d like to keep him inside for as long as possible.

“Whatchu doin’?” Dean grins as she sits up abruptly, his hand on either side of her thighs and he begins to stroke her there too.

“Don’t want you slipping out,” She says simply, as if it's a good enough excuse. 

He has to chuckle while his one hand goes up her body, cups her tit in his palms and pinches at her nipple. She wriggles above him, arches her back and Dean does it again, this time with her other nipple. 

“Jesus Christ,” He mumbles.

She raises her eyebrow as she looks down at him.

“You.” He says.

“What about me?”

“Just you.” Dean smiles a warm smile and adds with eyes that bear fondness and admiration, “It’s you.”


	25. Chapter.24

_ “It’s you.” _

She didn’t even ask what he meant by it. And honestly, if she would have asked, Dean wouldn’t have known what to answer. It’s just... in that fraction of a second, he just knew it in his heart that it’s her. It probably has always been her. It wasn’t even love at first sight, but it was this familiarity the moment their eyes met. Like his heart already claimed her as soon as he walked into the restaurant. As if his heart said,  _ ‘Oh, hey, it’s you. It will always be you.’ _

He just didn’t want to listen because he knew that it couldn’t be her. Knew deep down that he had tried to fight his own feelings so it wouldn’t be her.

But then, seeing her on top of him, her tits perky, her nipples stiff, as she wriggled so fucking sweet with her ass while she smirked that damn fucking smirk. He couldn’t fight it any longer. 

It’s her. 

It has always been her.

Dean made love to her again a second time. Had gotten hard after she wriggled with her ass as his dick was still inside. Their combined cum already leaked out, he could feel it trickling down his balls and it had gotten messy, but he didn’t really care about that. He made her ride him, enjoyed the view as he cupped her tits and let her fuck herself on him.

They showered and changed the sheets afterward. He pushed her against the tiled wall and got on his knees, ate her out until she gushed around his face. He loved that about her too. That she’s willing to let him take her apart, over and over. That she’s willing to do everything he says because she trusts him. Dean only feels a little guilty, pushing the feeling away, because it has no room in his mind right then. He’d have to tell her eventually, but the moment was not then and the moment will not be now.

The changing of bedsheets was another lesson from him, and she does it without much resistance. There was a pout, but she let him guide her through it and in the end, she was exhausted.

He thought it was really cute.

And now, they’re laying tangled in bed together, her on his shoulder.

Dean leans in, kisses the top of her head, and speaks into her hair, “Whatchu wanna do until your birthday party?”

She sighs at the mention of the gala and he knows as much as her that she doesn’t want to attend.

“I don’t know,”

“Nothing you wanna do? C’mon, name it and we’ll do it.”

“Uh, have sex with you?” She looks up at him, her forehead brushes at his jaw and Dean has to chuckle. 

“Baby, there’s going to be plenty of that anyway.”

Y/N pushes herself up, wraps her arms around his neck, her hand cradles his face. She moves so close, their noses touch, “Yeah?”

He smiles as their lips brush, “Yeah.”

She kisses him, soft and quick. With her next breath, she sighs, “Uh, I have no idea what normal people do, honestly.”

“Go to the movies,” Dean suggests, although he can’t remember when he went to the movies last. It had been way too long. 

“Yeah, we could do that. I’ve never been.”

He frowns as he tilts his head to her, “Never ever?”

Y/N chuckles, “Nah, we have a cinema room in our house,” 

Dean snorts. Yeah, of course they have. He was given a grand tour of the place by Bobby. There was even a popcorn machine, but he doubts that the atmosphere will be the same as in a real movie theatre. 

“Oh, ice skating!” She says excitedly. 

“Baby, there’s no ice right now.” Dean chuckles as he tucks a strand of hair back behind her ear. 

She pouts.

Yeah, he still gets weak when he sees it.

“I always wanted to ride on a roller coaster.”

Ugh. Not really something Dean likes to do. His life is thrilling enough, thank you. But instead of telling her no, he said he’d think about it. It would certainly be cute when she’s all excited. Dean has to smile as he pictures it. 

“Oh, oh,” She punches with her fist on his chest, “I always wanted a tattoo.”

“Really?” He frowns. 

“Yeah!” 

“Then you’ll get a tattoo,” He nods his head in approval. 

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


It was on the spur of the moment. They got dressed right after that and Dean drove her to a tattoo parlor. It belongs to a friend of his and Dean knows that Harry wouldn’t rat him out to her. Harry was in the same field, he knew better than to talk.

Dean met Harry at the training academy. Harry was his bunk bed partner, and without him, Dean doesn’t think he would have lasted as long as he did. 

Tragically, Harry had been shot in the spine and never really recovered. He abandoned the bureau and set up a tattoo parlor. Actually, he took over the parlor from his dad. It was the family business. 

He takes her hand as they walk in and Harry greets them as cheerful as ever. It’s a little shop and the other customer just left as they stepped in. Harry hurries to the door, turns the sign from  _ open  _ to  _ closed _ . 

Dean introduces them and while Dean holds small talk with Harry, Y/N wanders off to explore the place. 

“What can I do for you?” The man asks.

Dean jerks his head towards her as she is looking at the walls where there are pictures and drawings of tattoos hanging, “She wants a tattoo.”

Harry moves closer to him, takes the opportunity while she isn’t paying attention, “She’s the daughter of—”

“—Yes.” Dean answers sharply, doesn’t want Harry to mention the King’s name. Harry is always aware of Dean’s jobs. He thought that at least someone should know who’s not corrupted by the bureau. 

“Okay,” Harry nods and turns to Y/N. She’s still marveling at the drawings. He moves over to his seat next to the tattoo chair and calls out to her, “You wanna take a seat, Y/N?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” She mumbles and moves to sit down. 

Harry smiles, “So, what do you wanna get?”

“Um, I quite like that simple crown,” She points at a drawing.

Dean’s and Harry’s eyes find the drawing she was pointing at. It’s a simple crown, three jagged. Nothing too fancy, nothing big. 

“Why the crown?” Dean asks and when he looks back to her, he can see her face flare up. 

“Um, because everyone calls me princess,” She mumbles, “I don’t know, right, I didn’t have a lot of time to think and I quite like it.”

“A crown it is, princess.” Harry bows his head with a chuckle, “Where do you want it?” 

Dean hopes she’d want it somewhere private. Somewhere nobody could see, but then she surprises him as she stretches out her right arm and points the finger of her other hand to her wrist. 

“Great,” Harry grins, “Let me prepare things, and then we can start.”

Dean moves to stand next to her and she reaches out her other hand while Harry shaves off the area on her wrist with a razor. 

Y/N looks up at Dean, “You have to hold my hand.”

“I have to?” Dean chuckles and lowers himself on his knees to kiss her.

If Harry noticed this exchange, he didn’t say anything. 

“Dean, you can take the chair from the corner and sit next to her,” Harry says, but his eyes don’t leave Y/N’s wrist as he prepares her for the tattoo.

Dean walks over to grab the chair Harry pointed out, and sits next to her. Quickly, she grabs onto his hand and he has to chuckle again. Her grip is tight, it’s a little sweaty too. 

“You scared?”

“Nah,” 

“Liar,” Dean moves closer, whispers into her ear. 

“‘K, Y/N, you ready?” Harry asks, interrupting them and she turns her head back to Harry, nods with a sharp inhale.

Her hand squeezes Dean’s harder.

Harry nods back, flicks the switch of the tattoo machine and it vibrates to life.

“Hey,” Dean says, making her look back at him, “You sure you wanna do this?”

She has her lips between her teeth while she nods.

He cups their hand with his other one, “Good, just wanna make sure,” Dean then nods to Harry. The man had waited for his final okay. 

They both watch as the needle picks into her wrist. Y/N flinches and she tries to pull her hand away. Harry has a death grip on it, though, probably used to customers struggling at the first touch of the needle. 

Dean knows when the pain gets stronger, when it gets almost unbearable, because she squeezes his hand harder every time. 

“You’re doing great, baby,” He whispers low, his thumb rubs circles on the back of her hand.

It’s ten minutes later that Harry adds the final touches to her crown and she flinches again, but Dean cradles her face with one hand, making her look at him.

“You don’t have any tattoos,” She blurts out, catching Dean by surprise. 

He has to chuckle, “No, I don’t.”

“Don’t you want one?” 

“Uh,” Dean starts to say and while his mind is trying to find a perfect lie to tell her as to why he doesn’t want his body riddled with marks because that would make him vulnerable and very well recognizable, Harry jumped in.

“Dean’s afraid of needles.” 

Well, what a super lie. Thank you very much for nothing, Harry.

“You are?” She gasps and Harry chuckles to himself as he bandages up her wrist.

Dean shrugs and plays along with the little white lie, “Well, not much. Just a little,” He holds his thumb and forefinger up to signal it.

She grins and turns to Harry, “Can we get him one?”

The other man snorts, “Yeah, I’ve been itching to give him one for years!” 

Opening his mouth, Dean gasps for air. How the fuck is it that Harry betrays him like that. It’s not really a lie, Dean knows. Harry always wanted to give him one. Dean always said no. Not because he doesn’t want to, it’s more because he couldn’t risk it. But he always found tattoos fascinating if it’s the right motif in the right place. 

“You should get something while we’re here,” Y/N says and god, how can Dean say no when she looks at him with that stupid smile that he wants to kiss away. 

“Yeah?” Dean cocks his eyebrow.

“Yeah,” She breathes out and hops off the tattoo chair, “It’s only fair.”

“It’s what?” Dean looks up and she stares down at him, “I brought you here because you wanted a tattoo and not because I wanted one.”

She climbs into his lap, hooks her arms around his neck as she nuzzles her face against his scruffed jaw, not caring about Harry at all and honestly, Dean doesn’t care either. It’s too late for that now. He’s in too deep. This will be his last job, Dean has already made up his mind. Either way, it’s going to be his last. The question is more if he’ll get out of it alive.

“Okay,” He says and he probably didn’t think it thoroughly but it doesn’t bother him at all. 

“Really?” She looks at him expectantly, her eyes widen. 

“Yeah,” He whispers, inches closer, places a kiss on her forehead, “What should I get?”

Y/N giggles, “My name.”

Dean has to smile at that. Little does she know that her name is already tattooed on his heart. He chuckles, “How about I get a crown too?”

“Really?” Y/N asks curiously, “You would? But that would mean that we’d have matching tattoos.”

“I quite like it, though.” Dean says, not because it matches hers, but because he thinks that it would fit having something to remember his last job. A crown for a King he brought down, which would in turn, make him the King, “I have to hide it a little though. I’ll have it on my left wrist so I can hide it behind my watch.”

“You can’t wear your watch for the first couple of days,” Harry chimes in. 

“Yeah, whatever, I can wear it after.”

Dean turns to his friend and sees Harry grinning like a goddamn idiot. 

The man pats the empty space on the tattoo chair, “Hop on, tough guy!”

He rolls his eyes for effect but gets in and this time, Y/N’s holding his hand. 

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


It was another two days of work and no play for Dean and he surely gets grumpier by the hour because he wanted to make the best out of the two weeks, but now he feels like time’s running out and they only have one week left.

“Winchester, you still listening?” Benny asks as he stands in Dean’s office. 

“Yeah,” Dean clears his throat. 

He isn’t really listening because Benny whines about how Azazel isn’t allowing him to even dip a toe into a new venture and wants Dean to put in a good word. The venture? Strip clubs. All around the country. Owned by them. Dick Roman will provide the girls. 

Nope. Not gonna happen. At least not when Dean still has more say in this than Benny does. 

“I’ll look through your business plan and will get to you. You at least gotta give me until after the gala.” Dean lies.

Benny has his hand braced on one chair while he stands behind it. The man nods his head, “Okay.”

“Right. Will that be all?” Dean raises an eyebrow, is fucking annoyed that Benny’s still here because Dean should already be on the road to meet Naomi. 

“Yeah,” Benny nods and walks to the door. He opens it but stalls, “Oh, another thing. Did Y/N hear from Bela?” 

Dean’s poker face is on point, he doesn’t even flinch at the name. Instead, he shrugs, “I have no idea, why?”

“Uh, just asking.” Benny says, “Right, bye,”

Dean watches the other man close the door behind him, breathes a sigh of relief when he finally leaves his office.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


The drive out to Naomi is annoying. The traffic is slow and Dean doesn’t know what it is but he has the feeling that the whole world is working against him. 

When he finally arrives, his mood is even worse than before.

Dean nods at the guy manning the door and bursts in without knocking. It has become his signature move around here. 

When they hear the door closing with a bang, all heads are turned to him. 

“I’ve been waiting,” Naomi says coldly, looking up from the paper she’s holding in her hand and her gaze returns to that, and doesn't pay Dean any more attention than she has to.

“There was a hold up,” Dean says as he walks deeper into the room. Behind Naomi’s desk, people are working on large screens. They are Dean’s second eyes, reporting to him whenever there seem to be any suspicious movements. 

“That being?” His supervisor says, and only when Dean comes to stand in front of the desk, she finally abandons her paperwork to look at him.

“This,” Dean places the file onto the desk, his hands on the folder as she slides it towards her.

Her eyes go from his face to his hand and Dean should have been careful because there’s a frown on his supervisor’s face, “A tattoo?”

The woman has fucking eagle eyes, he always forgets about that. And even if he wears a watch to conceal it, the jagged edges of it are visible.

“Yeah,” Dean shrugs it off.

“Thought you didn’t want any marks on you.” Naomi raises her eyebrows as she takes the file and rifles through Benny’s business plan. 

There’s another shrug of Dean’s shoulder, “Figured I am riddled with scars anyway, might as well add a colorful one,”

Naomi eyes him up and down and Dean feels a little awkward, she can read him, he knows that. That has always made him uncomfortable whenever he’s around her. She soon returns to the file he slid over, giving it a quick read.

“Strip clubs?” 

Dean snorts, “Yeah, can you imagine?”

Well, the thing is, Dean can very well imagine that. He thinks Naomi can too. It’s just, things don’t fucking add up. Why should a respectable family like Lehne's, who made their money in investments in properties open up strip clubs. It doesn’t make any sense at all.

“Huh,” His supervisor huffs out a breath, “New clubs, new girls. Who’s going to provide them?”

“Apparently, the Roman’s. More specifically, Dick.”

Naomi clicks her tongue, “There’s something fishy about it.”

Suddenly, Dean’s phone starts to vibrate in his pants. He fishes it out, takes a look at the screen but doesn’t slide his thumb over the screen to pick it up. He can’t right now. Maybe because he knows who it is and he doesn’t need Naomi to ask dumb questions. 

“Ya think?” He says, with clear irritation on his face. 

The vibration stops and Dean slips the phone back into his pocket. It’s not two seconds later that it starts to vibrate again. With incoming messages it seems, because it keeps on going and going. 

The woman cocks an eyebrow at Dean, “You don’t wanna take that?” 

“Nah,” 

“Seems to be important,” Naomi suggests. 

Oh, she knows and Dean hates her a little bit for it. 

“Nothing I can’t settle after our meeting.”

His supervisor lets out a small snort, thinking Dean didn’t hear her, but he hears it nonetheless, “You sure about that? Seems like there’s trouble in paradise.”

“There’s no trouble,” 

“But there’s paradise I take it?” She says, cocking her eyebrow back up.

“None of your business,” Dean answers sharply.

She sets the files down while bracing her elbows on her desk to look up at Dean, “It is our business if you compromise this operation, Dean.”

“I won’t.” He shakes his head. Jesus, he’s so sick of this. 

“What makes you so sure?”

“I’ll give you what you want,” Dean says before he pauses. He pauses because he needs to think his next words through, is debating if this is really what he wants and no matter what scenario he paints in his head, it is indeed what he fucking wants. He clears his throat before he speaks, “I will give you what you want from me and after that, I’m out, Naomi.”

The woman doesn’t seem surprised and it throws Dean off.

She nods her head, and speaks with her calmest voice, “I can accept that, but you know that it depends on how things go down that you might need a completely new identity, right?”

“And you’re going to give me that.” He bargains with his boss, his voice is a little more agitated, not as calm and smooth as Naomi’s. 

“I don’t like to see you go,” She says and leans back in her chair, “But yes, you’ll get a new identity, but only if you complete your mission.”

“That’s all I’m asking for.” He nods. 

It’s not entirely true. He does worry about her, though. Wonders if Naomi would let Y/N off the hook, would let her come and start anew with Dean. Shit, it got more complicated because he now has to simultaneously finish his job and find out a way for her to come with him — if they all get out of it alive, that is.

“Okay, let me look into this,” She holds up the file, “I might have something,” Naomi says, and clicks away at her laptop, “Remember we said there was an auction? And we didn’t know who was responsible for it because for once, it wasn’t Marv?”

“Yeah, vividly.” Dean thinks back to the conversations with Naomi and then something clicked, “You think it’s Dick.”

Naomi shrugs, “He’s new, isn’t he? He lives in California, who knows what he’s been up to there while we only had an eye on his father,” She adds and she doesn’t look at Dean, “I’ll get back to you when we know more. Give us time to do some digging.”

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


Dean leaves and it’s starting to get dark. He flips his wrist, takes a look at his watch and the tattoo is poking out from underneath. He has to smile at that. 

In his car, he takes out his phone, looked at the messages he did get.

> _ Y/N: Dean _
> 
> _ Y/N: Dean _
> 
> _ Y/N: Dean _

He has to chuckle at the first three messages. 

> _ Y/N: Where are you? _
> 
> _ Y/N: Pick up! _
> 
> _ Y/N: Please? _
> 
> _ Y/N: Deeeaaann _

This girl, seriously.

> _ Y/N: I have to go to dinner with dad and the Roman’s. Are you coming too? _
> 
> _ Y/N: Please say you will. _
> 
> _ Y/N: Dean. Please come. _

Fuck. He’s not invited. He knew about the dinner, but he didn’t know that she’d have to go. 

He has to drive back and hearing her voice would probably send him into a rage because she’d be all whiny and he would be fucking mad that he can’t get her out of it, so he opts for texting her back.

> _ D: Sorry, baby, I’m still stuck in a meeting. I am not going to be at the dinner.  _

He lies, mainly because he doesn’t want her to call him.

> _ Y/N: UGH _

He snorts out a chuckle.

> _ D: But we can meet afterward, huh? Let me take you out. _
> 
> _ Y/N: I don’t know. Like a sniper or like romantically? _

He nearly grunts from the snort that was clearly louder than the one before.

> _ D: I wasn’t going to kill you, if that’s what you’re asking.  _

There’s a long pause but then the three dots flicker up.

> _ Y/N: [image] _
> 
> _ Y/N: What should I wear for dinner? Black or baby pink?  _

She attached a picture of two sets of lingerie spread out on her bed. Both of them are lacy, both of them don't leave much to the imagination, both of them make his dick stir in his pants. Especially when Dean can picture her wearing them. He’s sure he could see the nipples behind the lace. 

> _ D: Baby, you shouldn’t wear these when you go to dinner with the Roman’s. Don’t you have like, a pair of really big really ugly panties? _
> 
> _ Y/N: Are you jealous? _
> 
> _ D: Me? Nah. I just think that you should wear something modest.  _

Of course he’s jealous. To know that she’s going to sit next to fucking Zach or fucking Dick is bad already as it is but then to know that she wears fucking lace underneath when he can’t physically  _ be  _ there. It winds him up.

> _ Y/N: [image] _
> 
> _ Y/N: [image] _
> 
> _ Y/N: What should I wear? _

The images attached are of her body. In one she wears the black set of lingerie and in the other one pink. Jesus fucking Christ. Dean rubs a hand over his face, his dick stirs even more. 

> _ D: You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? _
> 
> _ Y/N: I don’t know what you mean? _
> 
> _ D: Come on, you’re killing me. _
> 
> _ Y/N: I just wanted your opinion, is all. _
> 
> _ D: Yeah, right. If it was up to me you’d be wearing nothing. But pink. I think you’d look great in it. _
> 
> _ Y/N: Dean, I really don’t wanna go. _
> 
> _ D: Baby, I can’t be there but let’s do this, okay? You can text me whenever you’re bored of their talking. I’ll answer. _
> 
> _ Y/N: Promise? _
> 
> _ D: Promise. Okay, the meeting is finished. I gotta get on the road, text me the name of the restaurant, okay? So, I’d know where to pick you up. _
> 
> _ Y/N: Okay, bye _
> 
> _ D: See you later, baby _

Dean shakes his head, wills his boner not to swell anymore before he makes his way back into the city, but all he can think about is her in that fucking piece of nothingness. 


	26. Chapter.25

They arrive at the restaurant and Y/N waits for her dad to get out first. He holds out a hand for her, helping her out of the car. She has worn a tight dress, so stepping in and out is kind of a challenge. Her father lends her an arm as soon as she’s out of the car, so she hooks hers into his as they make their way inside. 

The maître d’ points them towards a table further in the back, leads them to it. Of course they’d sit away from the window. She didn’t expect anything less. Every time she’d go for dinner with her dad, they either had a separate room or they’d sit way in the back, perfectly shielded from prying eyes. 

She already spots the Roman’s the deeper they get into the room. They are sitting there, laughing at their own lame jokes while drinking their aperitifs. Dick probably made a great joke because Zach just snorted a little of the drink out of his nose. 

_ God, what absolute dicks.  _

They walk past seated tables, important people, she knows, because she recognizes some of them from TV and newspapers. She doesn’t really care about them, though, never has. Some of them she’s even seen in the house or at the restaurant before dad would take them downstairs to conduct business. 

Her dad nods at some people in passing, gaining a nod back. Silent greetings and a way of reassurance. The gaze and a head nod that translates to  _ ‘I won’t tell if you won’t.’ _

They’re all so corrupt, it makes her sick. Well, her family isn’t really any better but at least they don’t pretend to be on the side of the fucking law to the outside world and then make deals with mobs behind the public’s back. 

Dick’s the first to notice them and stands, Zach following suit, buttoning up their suit jackets as they stand. 

The piano man’s playing his tunes in the background and people are whispering. She doesn’t really know if they are talking about them but honestly, she doesn’t really care about it either.

Ignoring the stares, she keeps on walking next to her dad, her clutch in the hand that’s not around her dad’s arm. Y/N wonders if Dean has gotten home already. Wonders if he’ll show up to pick her up. She deliberately left her car at home in the hopes that he’ll be true to his words and come rescue her out of this stupid dinner. 

“You’re going to leave me in the dark about what this dinner is all about, huh?” She whispers to her dad. 

On their drive over, she pestered him, asking — no, demanding, an answer but her dad waved her off.  _ It’s just a simple dinner _ , he said. But when she asked why she had to attend, he didn’t have an answer to that. Instead, he kept looking at his phone and typing. She rolled her eyes and settled deeper into the seat, tilting her head to look out of the window as street lights passed by.

The King keeps his head straight, his gaze trained on the two men as he talks through gritted teeth, “It’s not your place to ask questions, princess.”

Of course it isn’t. And she knows that she should fight back but also she doesn’t want to make a scene in an upscale restaurant where some people know their names. She didn’t want to be responsible for bringing their reputation down, no matter how much fun it would be, though. She’d like to see how this all will play out should nobody want to deal with her dad anymore. What would happen? What would happen to her dad? To her? What would happen to Dean? Would they both get out together? Would he take her with him? Take care of her as he already does? Would she be able to live a normal life? 

“Hello Azazel,” Zach greets her father, extends his hand for a handshake, completely jolting her out of her thoughts and of course ignoring her very existence, even though she’s hanging off her dad’s arm, “Great you could come by on a short notice.” 

Short notice? Oh, so it wasn’t planned. She wonders what’s so important to arrange a dinner on short notice. Especially with her.

When they greet her father, they finally turn to her and Dick takes her hand, places a soft kiss on the back of it. 

Ugh. 

She smiles through gritted teeth, nods her head. 

They ordered aperitifs and she downs her glass of champagne too fast, ordering a new one right away because if she has to sit through this dinner, she just knows that she’ll need alcohol to get it over with. 

Dick turns to her, raises one eyebrow, “You’re drinking a lot.”

“Yeah,” She smiles a polite smile, “I’m thirsty.”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but the waiter came and brought her another glass. Soon after that, they order their meal and Dick leans towards the men, talking to them while she’s left feeling out of place. 

When the entrees arrive, Dick turns his attention back to Y/N, leans towards her as he’s sitting right next to her, “You look great, Y/N, couldn’t stop thinking about you since the last time we met.”

_ Ew. _

“Thank you, I can’t say the same about you.” She says, but with that big smile decorating her face.

If Dick’s irritated by her answer, he doesn’t really show. Instead, he fucking grins, “You’re feisty, I like that.”

“Yeah?” She challenges him.

The others are already starting to eat, but Dick leans even closer, whispers in her ear, “I think you just need someone to tame you. Someone with a sense of dominance,”

She shudders. Not because of what he says, because she didn’t expect anything less from fucking Dick, but from the way he says it. She smiles, “Thank you, but I think I’m good.”

Dick chuckles, “I bet I can change your mind,” 

And the grin he sends her is cocky. Not that adorable carefree and playful cockiness she sees on Dean. It’s more forced, weirder, it makes her shudder again.

The men soon engage in a discussion after the entree and she clicks out of it, doesn’t understand a damn thing anyway, and honestly, she doesn’t even try to understand it because she’s so annoyed, still salty that she has to be here in the first place. 

Y/N opens her clutch, checks for missing messages from Dean but there’s none. With a pout, she swipes her thumb over the screen, the face recognition unlocks her phone in an instant and she is looking at her home screen, a picture of Dean she once took while he was sleeping. She stares at the picture, and even if the icons are in the way, she can make out his long lashes. There are freckles all over his face and she made the effort once to start counting them. She didn’t get far, though. Every time she would reach the one by his lips, she had to lean in and kiss him and when she broke the kiss, she always forgot what she was doing just a minute before it. 

Dean doesn’t know that she took the picture though, and she’s not sure if she wants him to know, is pretty sure that she’d get embarrassed if he did.

She looks up from the phone, sees the men still talking, so she decides to send him a text. 

> _ Y/N: What are you doing? _

As soon as she sends it out, she watches the words change from  _ Delivered  _ to  _ Read _ and her heart flutters because she knows that he’s seeing it right now and she knows that he’s going to keep her company like he promised he would. She smiles when she sees the three dots appearing.

> _ D: Waiting for you to be done, baby. _
> 
> _ Y/N: It’s going to be a while, probably _
> 
> _ D: I have time. How is it going? _

She nibbles on her own bottom lip as she risks a glance at the men. They are now talking about a warehouse that’s apparently not up to their standards. She quickly tunes out, doesn’t want to be bothered by work, returning her eyes to the screen that she keeps lowered on her lap, well hidden from their eyes. 

> _ Y/N: Ugh. _
> 
> _ D: So bad? _
> 
> _ Y/N: Worse.  _
> 
> _ D: I’m listening. _
> 
> _ Y/N: Dick said I looked good. _

There’s a long pause before the three dots appear but only to disappear again. It was a couple of seconds later that it picked up.

> _ D: Well, he’s not wrong. I bet you look great. _
> 
> _ D: What a dick. _
> 
> _ D: I wanna rip his lungs out. _

A grin spreads across her lips. He’s jealous. She likes that side of him. He doesn’t show it often because there’s nothing to show since she rarely interacts with other males, but she really likes it if he does finally show it a little.

> _ Y/N: He said he couldn’t stop thinking about me since the last time we met. _
> 
> _ D: That little fucking dick. _
> 
> _ D: He has no fucking right to think about you. _
> 
> _ Y/N: Are you jealous? _
> 
> _ D: Nah! _

Chuckling to herself, she looks up again, sees them still talking. She doesn’t think the meal will come anytime soon, since the waiter normally waits until her father waves him over to tell him that they were ready for the next course. Her father is still talking heatedly, so she guesses that she has some more time to text Dean without anyone noticing.

> _ Y/N: Good. Because then you probably won’t mind that he said he liked how feisty I am and that I need someone to tame me. _

The three dots start to appear and disappear again. The text comes right in after the dots re-appeared.

> _ D: He did what? _
> 
> _ Y/N: Told me I need someone with a sense of dominance. _
> 
> _ D: Oh, baby, you can’t be tamed. _
> 
> _ Y/N: And you like that. _
> 
> _ D: I do. Love it when you do whatever the fuck you want. _
> 
> _ Y/N: I told him that I’m good.  _
> 
> _ D: What did he say? _
> 
> _ Y/N: How do you know that he said anything back? _
> 
> _ D: It’s Dick. He always has to have the last word. _

Well, Dean’s not wrong and she can see that now.

> _ Y/N: Said that he’s going to change my mind tonight. _
> 
> _ D: He will do no such thing. _
> 
> _ Y/N: Why are you so sure about that? _
> 
> _ D: I just know that you’re coming with me (pun intended) _
> 
> _ Y/M: Omg _
> 
> _ D: Name’s Dean, babe _

She giggles silently to herself.

“Anything you want to share?” The King says and when she looks up, all eyes are on her.

“Uh,” She starts to stammer, “Nothing important, it’s just… Garth sent me a funny video.” She lies.

Her father nods, “‘K, put the thing away until we finish dinner.”

  
  


*

  
  


After their next course, Dick leans towards her again and this time, he has his hand braced over the back of the chair she’s sitting on. He leans so close, her nose picks up his cologne and paired with his natural body odor, it is not a great combination. She cringes her nose as subtly as possible.

“What are your plans for after dinner?” He whispers to her. His breath fans over her face and well, Dick has bad breath. It doesn’t surprise her. 

“I’m gonna meet with a friend,” She answers him and it’s not even a lie. 

“Blow it off, come to the Plaza with me, I'm renting out the presidential suite.”

Y/N chuckles. It’s not that it’s very funny, it’s more that she thinks the pick-up line is not a very good one. It might impress other girls, but it doesn’t impress her much. She has a whole presidential suite at home, her tub is a fucking hot tub if she wants it to be. There’s really nothing he can offer her that would make her want to go home with him. 

“Wow, that’s impressive. Good for you,” She smiles, “But no, I’m good, thank you.”

Dick snorts out, grins a little, still fucking cocky, “You’re a tough nut to crack, huh?”

“That’s what I’ve been told.”

“I like it,” He shrugs before leaning so close his nose brushes at the shell of her ear, “I like challenges.”

Y/N pulls her face away, fearing that he’d try to kiss her and it’s like someone knows because her phone starts to vibrate on her lap. 

The other man leans back, as Zach pulls him back into a conversation and she takes a look at her screen. 

> _ D: I’m at the bar. _

She frowns before she types back a reply.

> _ Y/N: What bar? _
> 
> _ D: In this restaurant. Did you know that they charge me $32 for a fucking glass of whiskey? This place is fucking ridiculous! _
> 
> _ D: Steal yourself away, come see me. _
> 
> _ Y/N: I don’t know if I can. _
> 
> _ D: I wanna see your dress. _

Tugging her lips between her teeth, she grins. Her whole face lights up, her cheeks are getting warmer.

> _ Y/N: It’s tight. And short. _
> 
> _ D: Jesus! _
> 
> _ Y/N: So tight that I’m not wearing anything underneath. _
> 
> _ D: Goddammit, Y/N! _

Smirking to herself, she places her phone back into her clutch and moves her chair back, standing up straight. She’s a little damp down there, has gotten slick when she thinks about what Dean could do to her later. There was no lie when she told him that she was wearing nothing underneath. 

“I’ll be right back,” She says into the round, and Zach’s still talking heatedly. Dick isn’t even looking at her. Only her father takes notice and nods subtle, his eyes on her.

She nods back and sends him a warm smile before turning on her heels and walking out of the dining hall. 

The bar’s situated right by the entrance of the restaurant and she knows her way around, her heels carrying her swiftly around the corner.

There’s Dean, wearing a black suit. She sometimes thinks they are tailored but she knows they aren’t because she’s seen the labels, knows that they aren’t expensive, but he makes them look like they are worth a million dollars and sit on his body like they’ve been sewed on. 

He’s sitting at the bar on a stool, talking to the female bartender as he tips his glass to his lips. He licks them before he takes a sip and the crinkles around his eyes are showing because he’s laughing, probably telling the bartender a lame joke and the woman giggles. Two more people are sitting at the long bar, but the bartender’s attention is solemnly on Dean. 

Y/N can’t really blame the woman, she guesses, but it doesn’t mean that she’s happy about it.

Dean doesn’t seem to have noticed her when he picks up talking and the bartender braces her elbows on the bartop, leans in. They are clearly flirting, or at least she is. It could be that Dean’s just being polite, she doesn’t really know, and hasn't been in that situation yet to know that side of him.

She struts over and Dean’s face turns, he notices her from six feet apart. Setting his tumbler down on the bar top, he turns in his stool, facing her. The eyes of the bartender follow his gaze and now they are both staring at her.

His lips curve up before they spread into a grin. The white of his teeth showing, the crinkles around his eyes run deep. Dean sits there and waits for her to join him and it seems like the bartender is saying something to him but he isn’t answering. Instead, he licks his lips before he nibbles at the bottom one, his eyes fixed on her.

“Hey,” He says as she stands before him, and he makes space for her, widens his knees, letting her walk into his spread thighs. His voice is husky from the whiskey that burned in his throat, and it’s not fair that she gets turned on so much just by one look at him. 

The bartender takes notice, the smile on the woman’s face falters, Y/N can see it in the corner of her eyes but she can’t concentrate on the bartender. No, all she sees is Dean. Sees how his smile grows cocky, how there’s a boyish charm when he lowers his chin a little just to grin some more as he takes in her dress.

“Hi,” She whispers, and he reaches out for her, one hand firm on her waist, fingers squeezing at her flesh. She doesn’t dare to do more, in case of getting caught. Even if her father knows about it, it doesn't mean that he likes to see them like this. 

“Beautiful,” Dean whispers as his eyes find their way back to her face. 

“The bartender?” She asks, cocking one eyebrow and Dean looks stunned. 

It isn’t long before he grins, though. All cocky and bravado. It looks so much better on him than on Dick. 

He raises an eyebrow to match hers, “You jealous, baby?”

His other hand comes up to her shoulder, fingertips brushing over her exposed skin and he inches higher, until he brushes at her lips. She lets him, lets him move his hand to the back of her neck and he pulls her closer, kisses her soft and sweet, tongue only teasing and she tastes the whiskey off of it. It’s a promise, she knows that. A promise for what's to come. 

Dean breaks the kiss swiftly, knowing that her father could walk out here any minute. However, he takes the time, their noses still touch as he whispers, “You’re my girl, you know that.”

Y/N pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, nods at him. She knows. She fucking knows. 

But still.

“God, you look so fucking sexy,” He growls and leans down, places a kiss to her pulse point. Dean clears his throat, grins a little. She knows it’s probably because she looks all flustered at the compliment. She’s not used to it, doesn’t really like it either. He looks at her, moves his head forward to be able to whisper into her ear, “You turn me on so fucking much. I’m all hard,”

Lowering her head, she looks at his body, lets her eyes trail down to his crotch. It is indeed visible. Maybe not fully hard but she can see that it’s bigger than usual. She places her hand on one of his thighs, only right above the knee, and doesn't want it to be too obvious. Dean licks his lips at that, biting on it.

“Missed you the whole day,” He whispers.

“Missed you too,” She answers, her fingers brush along his thigh. 

“You really didn’t wear anything underneath?” His voice is a little gruffier, drops an octave. 

“Nuh-uh,” 

“Nuh-uh?” Dean chuckles, “Mind if I check?”

There’s a mischievous grin spreading on her lips. God, the fact that he wants to check here, where everyone can see, turns her on and she doesn’t even know why. She shakes her head, “No,”

Dean lets out hot air as he chuckles again. It fans over the shell of her ear, makes her more tingly, if that’s possible. He lets his right hand drop to her thigh, the one that’s closer by the bar. He moves her with his other hand so that she’s closer between his thighs, his one thigh shielding her lower section from prying eyes. 

Y/N hitches her breathing as his fingers brush along her inner thighs. She bites down her tongue and tries not to squirm. The closer he gets, the wetter she gets and that’s not really fair that he has this kind of power over her. 

When Dean’s finger touches her clit, she flinches. His middle finger teases along her cleft and he growls next to her ear when he feels how wet she is. 

“Jesus, you’re so wet,” He hisses low, “Is it because of me or Dick?”

How can he even ask this? 

“Y-you,” She stammers because his slick finger is toying with her entrance. 

“Yeah?” He smirks, and his finger dips into her, “Fuck,” Dean mumbles, “So warm and tight baby,” His finger works inside of her and after two thrusts, he adds another finger, grunting as he works it in alongside his first one. He curves them just right, making her dig her nails into his thigh to keep her from falling, “Jesus, I want you so bad,”

God, she feels the same. Can’t really deny it. 

“We could go to the bathroom,” She suggests and feels a little shame creeping up her spine. She really just suggested they go into the bathroom. In a restaurant. In fucking public. That’s what Dean’s doing to her. 

He smirks and his mouth opens, licks over his lip with his tongue as he rubs at her walls on the inside and before he can rub some more. 

Dean chuckles, “Yeah? You’re a naughty girl, ain’tcha?” He grins brighter, “Can’t say I haven’t thought about it, too.” His voice drops a little, the whisper gets darker, “‘So that’s why you didn’t wear underwear? Huh? Easy access for me? I could just put you on my lap, baby, hike your skirt up just a little, it barely covers anything anyway. Could pull my zipper down, make you sit on my cock right here at the bar. Nobody would know because you wouldn’t make a sound, would you? I’d tell you to keep your voice down and you’d listen to me because you’re a fucking good girl,”

_ God _ , the good girl comment always gets her.

The grin gets crooked, gets a little cockier, but it falters all of a sudden, and Dean slips out, pushes her subtly away with one hand as the hand of the fingers that were inside her takes his glass and tips it to his lips. 

“Winchester,” Her father’s voice rumbles from behind her. 

_ Oh shit. _


	27. Chapter.26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, basically, I give you a daily chapter until year end because I wanna start posting a new series in January :)

She whips her head around, her hands tugging at her dress and pulling it down hastily and as subtly as possible before she looks up to where the sound was coming from. There they are, her father and the whole fucking gang. 

Dick and Zach trail behind her father, still talking about something but her father doesn’t listen, his eyes are trained on her, or rather on them. On Dean and her. She guesses that he knows, he must know. Her father notices a lot of things. 

Zach was telling a joke and Dick laughed as they walked closer. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think that they were Laurel and Hardy. Leaning back against the bar, she tries to calm her heartbeat while Dean smirks at her, his mouth still full of whiskey. 

He quickly swallows it down and stands up, buttons his jacket close and she knows it’s because he’s concealing his boner. She laughs softly to herself and Dean must have heard it but he ignores her.

“What are you doing here?” The King asks Dean, and comes to stand right next to them, but before he lets Dean answer, he goes on, “You remember the Romans?” 

It’s only a figure of speech and she knows that, still, it doesn’t make any sense to her like this whole fucking dinner doesn’t make any sense at all. 

Dean extends his arm for a handshake, “Sure, gentlemen,” He nods while shaking one after the other.

“You want to join us for some whiskey and talk? We’re going to my suite at the Plaza,” Dick cocks his eyebrows.

Y/N notices the change in his face. It’s as if he’s proud to be able to say that he’s staying in a suite at the Plaza. The dude really thinks it’s a big accomplishment. 

Dean opens his mouth to speak, but she cuts in, “Dean’s actually here because he has something I need to look over for the meeting tomorrow, so I think we’ll pass on that offer, Dick,”

Looking at her, Dean exhales, his lips curving up, just a little, “Yeah, that’s right. I’m sorry but I have to steal the princess away, maybe some other time, huh?”

Azazel nods knowingly. She knows that he knows, it’s just… she doesn’t really care right now. 

“Right,” Dick says and if he’s irritated by her speaking up for Dean and denying his invitation, he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he moves closer, places his hands on her arms and pulls her to him, so that she’s standing in the middle of their little circle. He places a kiss on her cheek and whispers in her ear, “Should you finish early, you know where to find me,”

The scent of Dick floods her nostrils, it makes her nauseous. It’s a stark contrast to Dean’s scent. There’s something about him that triggers some wires in her head, constantly making her want to gag. 

Pulling herself together, she takes a step back, winds herself out of his grip, and almost bumps into Dean who’s standing solid behind her, like the support she needs, “Yeah,” She nods, “Thanks.”

God, she wants to just club him over the head with her clutch, but instead, she has to stay polite. 

They both watch as the men walk out to their respective cars. It’s then that she dares to exhale. Dean does the same, she can feel his warm breath fanning over the back of her head. 

He chuckles as he presses his chest to her back, lowers his face down to whisper into her ear, “Liar,”

“Shut up,” She says playfully, “At least I got them off our back,”

“That’s true. But I wanted to bash Dick’s head in.”

Y/N smiles, “Well, I wouldn’t have stopped you.”

Dean places a kiss right beneath her ear, “Right, but you know what? I did shake their hands with the fingers that were inside of you,”

The knowledge makes her cheek flush and the tingly feeling between her thighs is back.

She turns around swiftly to meet his face, and looks into eyes that are green and decorated by beautiful crinkles, “What about that bathroom break?”

There’s a chuckle rumbling from his chest. She can feel it transfer over to her body, “I have something else in mind, but you have to change for that.”

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


Apparently, Dean said that there was no time to go back home to change, so he pulled her into the next store that looked decent enough. 

It seems like Dean knows what she should be wearing for what he has in mind and she lets him rifle through the pants section. They settle on jeans, a shirt, and a jumper, before he takes her to where the shoes are. Dean grabs a pair of sneakers and they walk along to the underwear section.

“Underwear?” She asks, to which Dean only cocks his eyebrow.

“You need to wear something,”

The women standing around are already watching them. Their eyes are on Dean as he walks around and tries to choose some panties for her to wear. Dean doesn’t seem to mind it, and she’s not sure that he’s even noticing the stares. It’s like he’s tuning everything out while he searches for something. 

After a couple of minutes, he comes back with a lingerie set and a bright smile on his lips. 

“I want you to wear this so I can rip them off of you,” He states and it’s not exactly in a low voice either. His hand is holding out the set for her. 

It feels like her cheeks are on fire, and the women around them chuckle as they heard what he just said. There might have been a gasp or two, she doesn’t know because her ears are pulsing with her own heartbeat.

Dean seems to have noticed that he said things that he shouldn’t have said that way too loud. He gets flustered, his cheeks are shining bright pink. 

God, he looks absolutely adorable.

“Right,” He says and clears his throat loudly, “Let’s get you changed,” He announces just a little louder too, maybe out of spite. Maybe he thinks that there’s no point in playing it over.

He drags her along to the changing stalls and at this time of the evening, there are not a lot of people around anymore. There are about ten cabins on either side, only two or three seem to be occupied. Dean pushes at the door on one of the stalls further in the back, lets her get in while he waits.

Y/N takes off her clothes and slips into the new panties and bra, ripping off the price tags afterward when she sees that they fit, and places the tags on her clutch that’s laying on top of her dress on the stool so that she remembers to pay for them. 

She takes a look at herself in the mirror. The mirror and lighting in the changing rooms are always unflattering, she thinks, even though they should be the opposite. She realizes that the lingerie set Dean had chosen for her is the same color as the pink ones she had sent him a picture of earlier, and he said that he wants to see the color on her. It seems like Dean really, truly wants to see it, then. 

Watching herself in the mirror, she twists and turns around, but jumps up with a gasp when she faces the door and sees it spring open.

Dean slips inside, smirking at her when he sees her wriggling around while she watches herself in the mirror. 

“What are you—” She hisses with a frown on her forehead.

Her words get cut off by a press of his soft lips to hers. His arm wraps around her waist, one hand spans over her face. And there it is, the smooth tongue that licks into her mouth and it’s the first real kiss today. One that she can enjoy, at least. Her arms go around his neck and she gets up on the tip of her toes to be closer to him. He tastes like whiskey still, and she drinks from him, loves the bitterness of it. 

“Hi,” Dean smiles as he breaks the kiss, pecking her lips once more.

“Hey,” She replies and smiles too, how can she not. The kiss left her all warm and fuzzy inside, “You shouldn’t be in here,”

“I shouldn’t do a lot of things, baby,” Dean says and she moves away as he removes her dress and clutch from the stool, places them on the floor before he sits on it, leaning his back against the wall. 

Their eyes meet through the look in the mirror. He’s sitting right behind her. However, his eyes don't linger on her face for too long, instead, they leave to roam over her body. 

“Spin around,” He whispers, his voice drops, and he does this circling motion with his forefinger. 

Y/N does, of course she does. Twists and spins around once more while she watches him through the mirror. Her eyes start to widen when she sees him working on his belt buckle and Dean winks at her because her mouth stands agape.

“Dean!” She hisses and comes to a halt.

With a smirk, Dean places his forefinger to his lips, shushing her. And then it was there in full view. He really just takes out his dick in public and starts to stroke it. It’s hard, and god, it looks delicious. Her mouth starts to water at the sight of his hard cock. The more he jerks himself, the harder it gets, and there’s a drop of precum pooling at his slit.

“I just had to, it’s getting painful leaving it in there,” He whispers and holds out a hand to motion her over, “C’mere, sit in my lap,”

She rolls her eyes, and he chuckles as he pulls her down, sitting her on his lap. His dick is hard and heavy below her ass. Dean groans at the friction and the feeling of her warm body on his.

He looks over her shoulder into the mirror, their eyes meet. His hand travels along her thigh, rough fingers brushing softly over her sensitive skin, his scruff scratches at her flesh as he rubs his face along her shoulder.

Her legs are hooked over his thighs and Dean spreads his knees apart so hers automatically gets spread too. A look in the mirror shows her that the color of the crotch of her new panties is a little darker because she’s already so wet, and it’s shameful really because he didn’t even do anything. Dean really has all the power over her and she doesn’t even mind it.

His fingers rub over her damp crotch while he sprays kisses on her shoulder, “Look at you,” His voice comes out fond, “You’ve already soaked through your panties,” He chuckles a little, “I haven’t touched you yet,”

Dean hooks his fingers into the crotch of the panties she hasn’t even paid for yet, moving the flimsy fabric aside to reveal her slick folds that are glistening in the overhead light that shines down on them. His other hand is spanned wide over her stomach, holding her in place while he looks at her through the mirror. His gaze is burning hot on her cunt, she can feel the effect of it warming her insides.

“Look at you,” He repeats himself in a whisper next to her ear, his breath fans over her throat, “I want you to look at yourself,” His fingers thread through her slit, parts them with two fingers while he plays with her nub with his middle finger and moves to her entrance where she’s leaking, “Prettiest little pussy if I ever did see one,” 

God, his dirty whispers make her head spin. 

She leans back and Dean bites into her shoulder, sucks at the patch that should hurt but doesn’t. She welcomes the little pain, it goes hand in hand with pleasure by now. 

He dips his finger into her pussy, making her flinch, just a little, and he chuckles before he kisses her jaw. She arches her back, and Dean’s hand that was on her stomach goes up to her throat, holds her there while he begins to finger fuck her. His finger is thick, reaching deep inside of her. His thumb rubs circles on her clit while he dips another finger in alongside his first one, fucking her slow and steady with two thick digits, curving them up just right. 

“You’re so wet and warm, fuck,” He hisses, “You’re so fucking beautiful baby, look at you,” 

Dean’s really able to play her like a fucking guitar. He always manages to hit all the right buttons and she turns to putty in his hands. It’s also no wonder that she’s already close, with the build-up and longing and all. Her toes start to curl and her pussy clenches around his fingers. 

Y/N closes her eyes and bites down on her bottom lip but Dean bites into her shoulder, increasing the pressure of his hand around her throat.

“Open your eyes, I want you to see what I see. I want you to see how pretty you are when you come for me,” He growls, the sound of his voice alone makes her clench her pussy once more.

Her eyes fly open and she looks straight into the mirror. She watches his finger dipping inside of her, watches the wetness pooling around, it drips along his hand. 

“Good girl,” He whispers, “My good fucking girl, ain’tcha,”

Another clench at the praise she hears. She’s almost there.

“You’re coming, aren’t you? Come for me, baby. Be a good girl and come on my fingers so I can fuck you,”

Her hands are on his thighs, nails scratching at the fabric of his pants when she comes around his fingers. There’s only a soft moan because Dean’s hand is around her throat, cutting off the majority of her air supply. Dean quickly releases her after she comes, pulling his fingers out and she whines at the loss. 

He chuckles while he places kisses along her shoulder up to her cheek, “Good girl,” 

Before she can even calm herself down, Dean lifts her by the back of her knees with one of his hands while he fishes out his cock from underneath her ass with his other. He makes her lean back some more, pulls her knees to her chest while her other leg dangles around on the side of his thighs. 

“Jesus, I love how wet you get,” He mumbles with one hand around the base of his dick and he slaps it wetly against her slippery cunt. It makes a wet slapping sound and it sends jolts up her spine. 

Without preamble, Dean slips his throbbing cock into her pussy, groans into her skin as he thrusts himself forward and sinks himself deeper inside of her. She moans too, has to clasp a hand over her mouth so as not to make too much of a sound.

He’s holding her up by her the back of her knees with both his hands now as he thrusts his hips, fucking his cock in and out of her, “Look ahead, baby, look at your greedy pussy, sucking me in and hugging me so tight,”

She sees it, sees how her pussy hugs Dean’s thickness as she watches him fuck her. God, the view is so fucking obscene, but she can’t hide that it turns her on.

Dean licks at her earlobe, sucks it in, “Fuck, you feel so good around me, like you always do,” He breathes out. His voice is strained and she knows it’s because he’s trying to hold himself together. He probably wants to fuck her harder, wants to fuck her deeper like she likes it, but they’re in fucking public and it already needs a lot of her self-control to not moan out loud.

“Where do you want me to come?” He asks and she can see in the mirror that his balls are drawn up. It also twitches slightly, “Rub yourself, I can’t do that,” Comes another demand.

Nodding, she puts her hand to her clit, rubs at her nub that’s wet and slippery. 

“In me, please” She begs, and swallows as her pussy clenches at her ministration, “I want you to come inside of me,” 

There’s a deep chuckle beside her, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” She moans, “Love it when I feel your cum run out of me,”

“Fuck,”

“You should know that by now,”

“I love it too,” He whispers as he nuzzles his nose against the back of her ear, “Love it when I see you squirm and I know exactly that it’s my cum that’s still leaking out because I pumped you so full the night before,”

Good lord, the way he talks. 

Her pussy clenches and she rubs faster, “I’m gonna,” Holding her breath, she bites down her lip hard so as not to moan out loud, “Shit, Dean,”

“Go on,” He says, “Come on my cock, but watch yourself when you come, watch how fucking pretty you look,” 

“Fuck,” She curses under her breath as she gushes around Dean’s dick, almost ruining her new panties.

Dean’s breathing is heavy, and his lips are pressed to the skin on her shoulder. There’s only a hitch of his breath when he comes and she can watch his dick twitch because only the tip is resting inside as it shoots his cum up her pussy. His whole cock pulses. It’s fucking beautiful to look at. 

He’s chuckling, tongue coming out to lick at her salty skin and she’s still mesmerized by the view in front of her. She watches as his dick slowly softens. Watches as it flops out of her hole, cum that drips down makes a splash on the floor in the little stall. She’s going to have to clean it up with her old dress.

  
  
  


____________________________________________________

  
  
  


Dean releases her legs and instead, he wraps them around her middle to steady her as he sits up a little straighter. She turns her head to the side, presses her forehead on his scruffed cheek. He looks down at her and grins, places a kiss on her nose. And when she looks up at him, his heart damn near stops. She looks so fucking beautiful, so cute and adorable when she’s fucked out and spit slick. 

Love. 

That’s probably what he feels. And there are the three words that are resting on the tip of his tongue, something he wanted to say so many times but couldn’t bring himself to and still can’t. Not when everything’s still so fucked up. 

Instead of saying it, Dean leans in, captures her mouth, hoping that he can pour his feelings into the kiss enough so that she can feel it. 

  
  
  


*

  
  


He lets her get dressed and she walks out with her dress balled in one hand and her clutch with the price tag in the other. They paid and she threw her dress and shoes into the next trash can on the way to the car. 

They drive over the bridge and she already gets impatient again.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” He smirks, to which she pouts.

That pout surely has a direct wire to his fucking heart.

Dean rounds up the corner into a street about 10 minutes later after she asks where they were going and she hops out of the car. He opens the trunk, gets out the blanket and a duffel. 

She looks at him with a frown and he can see that there’s a question burning on her tongue. Her mouth opens but before she can ask, Dean captures her lips, making her release hot air into his mouth. 

“Don’t ask, just follow me,” He whispers, pecks her lips once more and she nods her head. 

They walk two blocks into the opening of a park and there are already people scattered around on an open field. 

He watches as her eyes scan the open field, watches as her jaw drops when she sees the big screen. And Dean can’t lie, with the backdrop of the city lights across the river, the view’s magical. 

The movie already started to play and it’s entirely his fault, Dean knows that. He shouldn’t have gone in and fucked her but he couldn’t  _ not  _ do it. He was too worked up and the thought of her wearing the lingerie he picked out for her, kind of made him not be able to think straight. 

Y/N stands to the side and lets him spread out the picnic blanket before she sits on top of it.. Dean joins her, wraps his arms around her.

“A movie, huh,” 

Dean chuckles, “Yeah, it’s not like in the theatre but it’s great nonetheless,” His hand rummages in his duffel, fishes out a pack of popcorn and cans of sodas. 

“Oh yeah, that’s much better,” She agrees and scoops up a handful of the corn, before she pops it into her mouth, “Thank you,” 

“You’re welcome,” He says, presses his lips together when he grins. 

  
  
  


*

  
  


People start to disperse after the movie ends but they stay a little longer. She lets out a burp as she moves, it makes him laugh out loud. 

Dean stretches himself, leans back a little and she lies down, seemingly full of popcorn and soda, her head’s on his lap as she looks towards the lights of the city. Dean doesn’t say a word, instead, he brushes a hand over her head, strokes back her hair. 

“Which is better? This or the suite at the Plaza?” He asks. Can’t help but feeling that competitive anger creeping up his spine.

She turns herself and moves up, pins Dean down on the blanket before she lays her head on his chest, his arm is around her body, “Definitely this.” She smiles and Dean takes that. Knows that she really means it. He moves her further up, kisses her forehead and she nuzzles her face into his neck. 

He can’t help but think how great it would be if they weren’t what they fucking are. He could properly date her, maybe he’d ask her to move in with him, maybe he’d fucking marry her. He doesn’t know. His head and heart are all over the place and it seems like he can’t get a breather too, because his phone starts to vibrate. 

With an annoyed groan, Dean fishes it out, frowns as he sees who’s calling him. He doesn’t want to but he knows that he has to take it, so he swipes his thumb over the screen.

“Sir,” He speaks into the phone, and as soon as she hears the familiar voice of her dad, her head shoots up from where it's buried in his neck to frown at him too. 

“Yeah, I’ll be there in an hour. Great, bye.”

She pouts because she knows, and Dean’s hand reach out, brushes over her lips with his thumb, “‘M sorry,”

“It’s okay,” She says and scrambles off the blanket, “It was nice, Dean. Thank you again,” 

He follows her up and straightens his suit and while she stands there, with her arms around her body, hugging herself tightly, Dean wants to drop fucking everything and just get her and leave. But he fucking knows that it’s not on the cards. Not now. 

“I’ll make it up to you, huh?” He moves closer, one hand resting on the back of her neck and she wraps her arms around him, albeit reluctantly, but then the hug gets tighter. Dean kisses her, licks into her mouth, tastes popcorn and sweet sugary soda, but also he tastes her. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of that taste.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


After having dropped her off at home, he drives back into the city, parks a street away from the Plaza because he really hates valet parking. He’d rather have his car handy when he needs it and he just really hates to wait until his car is brought to him. 

Dean walks up to the reception, gives the receptionist his name and there’s a bell boy at his service who leads him to the elevator that goes up to the presidential suite. 

He wonders if Dick needs those prestige things as an extension to his non-existing dick. He probably does. Not that Dean really wants to know the shape of Dick’s dick. 

The bell boy leads him along the hallway and leaves Dean in front of a big door to fend for himself. 

Dean knocks. 

The door is swung open by a guy who’s a couple of inches taller than him, is a little broader too, “Who are you?”

“Winchester,” He says and before he can tell the guy his full name and add that he’s expected by his boss, Azazel already calls out from the inside.

“Let him in, Gadreel, he’s one of mine.” 

Dean makes his way past the bodyguard who is still looking at him suspiciously, and Dean doesn’t know what it is, but the guy looks kinda familiar. If it’s someone from his past, he hopes that the man was dumb enough not to put two and two together. He decides to play it off, shifts his attention to the problem at hand. 

“Get a drink, Winchester,” Dick says as Dean steps into the circle of them sitting on the couch and sipping whiskey, “Sit down,”

He does, because a drink sounds about right. Dean pours himself a glass, all the while he thinks about where he’s met Gadreel before but he just can’t put a finger on it. Abandoning his thoughts, Dean walks over to the couch, sits down with a grunt while the men are still discussing something. 

“What’s the urgency?” Dean asks while he looks at Azazel.

The King looks back to him, a smile sitting on his face, his fangs a little yellow but bright, “I wanted you to know this because you’re going to be the man who negotiates the little details that are left,”

“Left of what?” Dean doesn’t know that there’s another deal going on between the Lehne’s and the Roman’s. If there is, it must be a new one because he knows of all the other deals that are going on.

“The prenup,” Azazel answers.

“Pre-what?”

_ Oh, no, no, no _ . Dean fears the worst.

“We’re fusing our empire and become even bigger and better,” The King says, “The gala in two days will be a big fucking engagement party,”

Dean feels a sudden wave of nausea hitting him. His heart is thundering against his rib cage. 

“To the future of our families!” Azazel holds up his glass for a toast and the Roman’s join in.

“To the future,” Dean mumbles and drains his whiskey in one go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I just wanna say that I see all your comments but I'm having a difficult time right now and talking is a little hard. I'll hopefully be back soon. Thank you so much for reading and staying with this story, I really appreciate it xx


	28. Chapter.27

Y/N had been busy getting things ready for the gala for the last two days, and it seemed like Dean was more busy than usual too, since every time she checked up on him, he either didn’t respond or if he did, it would just be short answers. They didn’t really see each other at all and she missed him terribly. 

On the day of the event, her father booked them all into the Plaza hotel where the gala was being held and she had her own junior suite while her father, Benny, Dean, Crowley, were booked into normal rooms several stories below her. 

She takes the liberty to soak her tired bones in a bath as soon as she gets into her room, and while she lies there, she can’t help but think how great it would be if Dean was here too. She doesn’t even know if he enjoyed taking a bath, but she’s sure she would be able to change his mind if he didn’t like it.

After the bath, she walks around in the fluffy robe the hotel provided — she likes that part of being in the hotel the most. The bathrobes are always so fluffy — as she waits for her stylist, Charlie, to come with an assorted variation of dresses she’ll get to choose from. 

There will be people here for her make-up too, which she thinks it’s over the top, but it has always been like this whenever they were holding a gala. She’s supposed to outshine everyone, apparently. She’s not entirely sure if it worked, but she always made sure that she’s polite and forthcoming. 

Charlie arrives after Y/N has put on her nude colored lace lingerie. Nude is always good, she’s learned. That way she doesn't have to be afraid that it won’t match the dress.

“Hey, babe,” Charlie walks in with a bright smile sitting on her face. A bellboy follows behind her, bringing in dresses on hangers. Behind him are two make-up artists and she supposes that one is responsible for her makeup and one for her hair. 

Y/N frowns when she sees the dresses. They all look different, all made out of different materials,  _ but  _ they are all white. 

The bellboy disappears and she sits down in her chair as Charlie drops her messenger bag on the floor. 

“I thought you were going to bring more dresses?”

The red-haired woman looks at Y/N, smirking as she walks to the cart where the dresses were hanging off and then Charlie makes jazz hands, “Are these not enough dresses for you, m’lady?” 

“Charlie, you know what I mean,”

The woman lifts an eyebrow, “No? I really don’t,”

“Why are they all white?”

“Duh,” Charlie laughs, “It’s your engagement party, of course the dresses are all white!”

“My what?” She stands straight up, and the makeup girls jump at how loud she is, “My what? Say that again!” She demands, as Charlie’s eyes widen and she looks left and right for backup but none is forthcoming.

Y/N’s fuming. Her what? Of course it would be, wouldn’t it? Her father did this, didn’t he? Jesus Christ! This is all fucking dandy. But her engagement to whom? She has the feeling that it fucking isn’t Dean. 

She walks closer to Charlie, who’s still standing still and tongue-tied. Grabbing the woman by the arm, she shakes her, “Charlie, I want to know what you know!”

“Uh,” Charlie stammers, “I have been instructed to bring you dresses for your engagement party.”

“Who am I going to marry?”

“Roman. Dick Roman.” 

There’s a sound that Y/N makes that comes from the depths of her throat. It doesn’t sound human at all. Charlie and the other women flinch. 

“Who gave you that order?”

God, she’s still so loud, but she can’t help it. 

“Uh,” Charlie starts to say.

“Charlie, tell me, because I talked to you yesterday morning, and we didn’t agree on that.”

“Dean Winchester. He called yesterday late afternoon, telling me your father wishes to change your wardrobe to dresses that would fit for an engagement party for a future bride.”

“Fuck,” She curses under her breath.

Dean knew? Dean fucking  _ knew  _ and he didn’t tell her?

God, she’s so fucking mad.

Pushing herself past Charlie, she storms out of the door, doesn’t even fucking care that she’s only dressed in a fucking bathrobe. Charlie calls after her, but she doesn’t listen. She goes straight to the elevator and rides down the three floors that separate Dean’s room from hers.

  
  
  


____________________________________________________

  
  
  


Dean looks at the screen of his laptop. Naomi has sent him updates on the boy and Dean’s fucking angry, he can’t lie. The boy has been fucking butchered, his organs sold off on the black market and for what? Just because his father couldn’t fucking pay them the money. But it wasn’t Azazel’s doing, he knows that too. Fucking Benny, man. He’s so mad and he’s just waiting for that guy to misstep so he can jail him the fuck away. Or kill him. Whatever comes first.

He looks at the details of the report and Dean can’t help his eyes getting teary. He still doesn’t know where the boy’s sister is but fuck, a boy, a fucking boy who’s only just shy of sixteen, butchered and sold off for profit.  _ Jesus _ , Dean should have saved him. He knows it isn’t, but it fucking feels like it’s his fault. If he just took them home with him on that day. But he fucking couldn’t because he would have blown his cover. 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he closes his eyes, tries to take even breaths to calm down. 

There’s a sharp knock at the door, making him clear his throat and close his laptop, pushing it under the cover of his bed. 

He sniffs and clears his throat once more before he pushes himself away from the bed to walk over, opening the door slightly, only to have Y/N pushing herself in and past him.

Closing the door silently, Dean notices her spinning around swiftly. Her face is flushed, her hair’s still a mess and she’s dressed in a wardrobe that’s barely hanging together by the knot around her waist.

That’s not good. Not fucking good for his mind to see her like this. It makes him want to just push her against the wall and take her right here and now. 

But he’s noticed too, how fucking upset she is. She probably found out and that’s on him as well, because he forgot to tell Charlie that the woman shouldn’t say a word to Y/N. Maybe he didn’t really forget, though, maybe he did want her to know, somehow. He doesn’t really know. It’s all fucked up as it is.

She points her index finger at him and walks closer, poking at his chest with it, but Dean doesn’t budge, “You knew? You fucking knew and you didn’t tell me?”

“I couldn’t,” Dean says as an excuse. He knows it’s not a good one, but it’s as good as he can make it. 

“So, what? Dad marries me off to fucking Dick and you just stand there to the side, watching me do it?”

Dean closes his eyes briefly, lets out an audible exhale. Fuck, she’s going to marry someone else and even though he did know it was coming, he thought it wouldn’t be this hard for him, but it damn is. 

“There’s no choice, Y/N. Your future is already decided for you and I can’t do anything about it.” He says it in the calmest of voices he can muster up, hoping she’d understand. He wouldn't understand it if he was her, but she’s more mature than he is, she’s smart, she’d get it, right?

There’s a sound coming out of her throat, it’s high pitched and loud, and she starts to pace around his hotel room. He doesn’t really know how to stop her without touching her. Dean’s afraid that if he does touch her, afraid that if he really lets himself pull her to his chest to calm her down, he’ll never be able to walk away and walking away is what he fucking needs to do right now if he wants to have a shot at a chance of getting out. He’d like to tell her though, tell her that he does all this for her. Every fucking thing he’s doing right now is for fucking her.

“You won’t fight? Fight for me?” She asks as she stops the pacing and it seems like she has calmed down a little, at least her chest is not heaving that heavily anymore. 

“Y/N,” He starts to say, but doesn’t get far.

“Let’s run away,”

Dean frowns, “What?”

“Yeah, you asked me once to run away and I’m ready now, Dean, I want to run away with you!” 

Sitting himself back on his bed, Dean rubs a hand over his face, ruffles up his hair, pulls at it a little, making it painful to distract himself because the things he’s going to say to her is going to hurt him more than it’ll hurt her, “We can’t, we should have never been anything in the first place, Y/N,” 

While he says it, Dean doesn’t look up at her, he just can’t. He knows that he won’t be able to keep his hands away if he does. And it hurts him so fucking much when he isn’t able to comfort her when she needs him. Maybe Naomi was right. Perhaps he shouldn’t have let his fucking heart rule his head. Perhaps this pussy wasn’t worth it after all. 

He lets out a soft snort. Who is he even fucking kidding?

She sniffs. Dean knows that she’s fucking crying. God, he can’t look at her tears. Especially when he knows that he’s the one who caused them.

“That’s it? That’s how this will be? I love you and I thought you felt the same. Guess I’m a fucking idiot to think that  _ anyone  _ could ever love me for who I am.”

She loves him? His lips are twitching, his whole body itches to stand up and grab her by her face, to fucking kiss her—

—But he doesn’t.

_ Jesus _ , he’s a fucking coward.

There’s a long pause and he knows that she stares him down, waiting for his reaction, waiting desperately for an answer, waiting for something Dean can’t give her. There’s nothing he can possibly say to make it all better. Nothing he says will make it all go away for her. Not yet. 

Y/N lets out a sigh and walks to the door, stalls for a moment as she has it open, “I guess I’ll see you at my engagement party, Dean,” 

The door closes softly and Dean doesn’t move. Is too paralyzed to even move a fucking muscle.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


At the start of the party, Dean mingles with the crowd. Everyone has been notified that it’s going to be an engagement party and everyone managed to get a last minute present for the couple. 

What a truly fucked up couple, Dean thinks. To Dick, Y/N’s nothing more than an eye-candy. A trophy wife for his collection.

He stands off by the bar, watches as the music gets softer and the speaker announces the entrance of the future Mrs. and Mr. Roman-Lehne. Just hearing it makes Dean want to gag. 

But then he has to look. It’s just not possible to look away.

There they are, her hand hooked into Dick’s arm as they make their way to stand in the middle of the room. Dick’s smiling proudly, and she too, forces a smile that’s all fake. Dean knows. He’s seen her genuine smile before and that doesn’t even come close to what she would really look like if she’d be happy. 

Dean empties his glass, clutches it in his palm. 

Y/N looks beautiful as ever, even with the make-up that he’s not a big fan of. She doesn’t need all those false pretenses, and he likes her best with nothing on her face but a smile. Charlie did great with the dress, though, it hugs her curves, making her look like she’s worth a million dollars. Which ironically, she is, and so much more. And maybe that’s the reason why they should never be. Dean couldn’t give her what she’s worth, that’s why there’s Dick who can swoop in and fucking grab her from under his nose. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Dick starts to speak, “Welcome and thank you for being here,” He looks into the round, eyes meeting Dean’s briefly, “We only said that it’s going to be an engagement party, but I haven’t made it official and put a ring on her yet,” 

The whole room erupts with laughter and Dean just clutches his glass tighter. 

“So, let’s make it official,” Dick takes a step away from her and fishes out a velvety box from his Tux jacket. He gets on his knees and there are gasps of  _ Aaaah’s _ and  _ Oooh’s. _

“Y/N Lehne, would you do me the honor of being my wife?” 

The size of the diamond on the ring should make Dean nauseous and it does. He could never give her that, not even if he would sell everything he owns, including his soul. 

It’s like all the people in the room are holding their breath, even though there’s not a chance that she’d say no. Not when everyone’s here, not when she could humiliate both their families by saying no. She’s too good of a girl for that. His fucking good girl who belongs to someone else now. 

She looks around the room, a slight irritation on her face, but Dean doesn’t think anyone gets it because they don’t know her like he does. Her eyes meet his and Dean swallows the lump in his throat. He nods at her, tries to smile to cover the pain that his face is probably showing. 

It’s like she’s nodding back, and she too, puts on a brave smile before she looks down at Dick and nods, whispering him a  _ yes _ . 

Claps and cheers erupt and Dean sets his glass on the bar to join in while he watches Dick slipping the ring past the knuckle of her ring finger. Dick stands up and pulls her close by the waist, places a kiss on her lips. 

And Dean might have imagined it, but Dick looks him straight in the eye afterward, a smirk forming on the man’s lips. One that clearly says that he’s  _ won _ . 

Dean does his best not to get mad but it doesn’t work. He presses his lips together into a thin line, frowns and turns around so as not to get more riled up, and orders himself another drink at the bar.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


He’s talking with the boys when everyone lines themselves up to congratulate the newly engaged couple, and some boys join the line too, but Dean just can’t find it himself to do it. Dean doesn’t think it’ll be good for either of them, plus, he’s not nearly drunk enough to face her right now. So he keeps on drinking, covering the pain he feels. He knows that it takes a lot for him to get drunk and he seldom drinks that much, but maybe it’ll work tonight, maybe he can pass out until this is all over.

Dean deliberately didn’t sit at their table for dinner. He just couldn’t, and he guesses that Azazel understood because the man caught Dean when he swapped his name tag with someone else’s. 

After dinner, the music gets louder and Dean goes back to the bar for a drink. Even though he isn’t going near her, he still watches her the whole night. She tries to smile through the dinner and Dean just knows that it hurts her as much as it hurts him.

He watches people dance with his glass of whiskey in hand, watches as she dances with Crowley and then her father interrupts them for the next dance. 

His eyes trail from her to Nick and Benny who are standing off of the dance floor, discussing something. Benny has been on Dean’s case since he gave Dean the business plan to look over and Dean hasn’t gotten back to him yet. Dean never will, but Benny doesn’t need to know that. He wonders what’s going on there and he knows that he should be investigating, but his head was just in a fucking space for two freaking days. 

When the music stills, there’s a round of applause and Dean’s eyes go back to her. Azazel is leaving the dancefloor, leaving his daughter standing there. She looks kind of lost since her financé is speaking to another associate and probably boasting about his engagement to the Lehne’s family. It’s really adorable how she spins around to see if there’s someone she knows or someone who would like to have the next dance with her. When nobody is forthcoming, she walks across the dancefloor desperate to get off it.

Dean doesn’t know why he does what he does, but honestly, he doesn’t know a lot of things anymore. Things happening around him which he has no control over and it doesn’t sit quite right with him. Before he can stop himself, he stands solid on the edge of the dance floor and she doesn’t look, almost bumps into him. 

“May I have the next dance, princess?” He whispers and manages to smirk. 

There’s sorrow in her eyes when they meet his, but she nods and Dean takes her hand, walks with her to the middle of the dance floor, hiding themselves away from prying eyes. Her hand feels familiar in his. God, it’s crazy how he had missed simple touches. 

They sway to the music for some time, his one hand firm on her lower back, fingers span wide and he has to hold himself back from digging the tips in, holding his hand back from feeling the familiar flesh underneath his palms. 

The silence between them is deafening, so Dean has to break it, he feels the need to know that she’s okay even though she probably isn’t because he fucking broke her heart. 

He clears his throat, swallows down the lump that built up, “You look lovely, Y/N,” 

“Thank you,” She answers, looking up to him for the first time since they embarked on this dance. 

His heart melts. 

Fuck.

“‘M sorry,” He whispers, “I wish things were different,” 

It’s the truth, he really wishes they were. 

“Me too,” She says, “I love you, you know, not him. And that’s a huge thing. I thought you felt something for me too.”

Dean lowers his face to be closer to hers, and somehow by this point, he doesn’t really care anymore. She opens up to him and the least he can do is telling her how he feels. 

“I do,” He whispers and places a kiss on her cheek. His face lingers there longer and he whispers into her ear, “You’re mine and even if you’re his, you’re still mine, I don’t want you to forget that.”

“I don’t feel like I’m yours anymore, Dean,” It comes out a whisper, “I feel like this is it. I feel like you’re not going to fight for me because you know that you can’t win. I feel like you’re not allowed to call me yours anymore, not after you broke my heart. It is what it is, right? We carry on and move on. That’s life and I get it. I wish I could feel it though, I wish I could feel that I’m yours again.”

Her speech has hit him hard. It’s like someone just took a spoon and carves at his chest to get to his heart. It would probably even be less painful. 

Bit by bit, his walls are crumbling. 

“Baby—”

“—Don’t say it if you don’t mean it,” She cuts him off.

Dean opens his mouth to speak again, but before he can, Dick’s standing next to them and clears his throat audibly.

“May I have a dance with my fiancée?”

Swallowing down his anger, Dean clears his throat, “Sure,” 

He looks at her, sees her pleading eyes. Her hand’s still holding his tight, doesn’t want to let him go and god fucking knows he doesn’t want to let go either. 

_ Fuck.  _

She is fucking  _ his  _ and here he is standing back and letting someone else take over? Letting someone else make her happy? 

Nodding at her, he moves away, squeezes at her hand one last time before he lets go. He doesn’t look back but he’s sure now that he’s going to fight to take back what’s rightfully  _ his _ . 


	29. Chapter.28

Dean’s sitting in the foyer, listening to Max and Ed talk about the poker game last night. Dean took part in that too. He even won and apparently, it doesn’t sit right with the two. People are slowly going home or are on their way to do their respective jobs because apparently, a mobster life knows no sleep. 

As he watches people walk past them, Dean’s attention suddenly shifts when Dick storms across the foyer hastily with two of his bodyguards in tow. They quickly get out into an awaiting car. 

Dean smirks, his plan did work after all. 

He stands up, faking a yawn, before he rights his suit and bids the boys good night. Slowly, he makes his way to the elevator and pushes at the button, letting his hands slip into his pant pockets as he waits. 

When he reaches her floor, Dean walks along the closed doors of the room on either side of the hallway until he reaches hers. 

Dean knocks twice, before he calls out, “Room service!” It’s loud enough for everyone to hear if they would be listening in.

Y/N opens the door wide. She’s dressed in her bathrobe and Dean’s mind races because he knows that there’s probably not a lot she’s wearing underneath. Her face is free from any make-up traces, her hair’s up in a bun. She probably just finished cleaning up herself after the gala. The engagement ring is off and he feels a little happy about that.

There’s a little frown on her face when she hisses, “What are you—”

Dean places a finger to his mouth, pushes her in and gets in with her, closing the door softly one-handed. 

“Where’s your fiancé?” He asks, maybe a little too cocky, a little too satisfactory. 

“I don’t know. Something with a shipment arriving earlier than they thought it would. I have no idea and I don’t really care,” She mumbles and walks over to where she left the dress pooling on the floor after she has gotten out of it. She picks it up and drapes it over the chair by the huge desk. He knows that she does it just because she wants to occupy herself and maybe she does it to hold herself back from launching herself at him. It pains him to know that she has to hold back, though.

“I know. But there’ll be no shipment once he arrives. Do you think he’ll get mad?” Dean shrugs and pushes his hands into his pant pockets.

Her face meet his, her mouth opens and closes, “You didn’t,”

“‘M sorry,” He mumbles.

“Why did you do that?”

“Because I can’t stand to watch him take what’s fucking  _ mine _ ,” He answers, his voice a little rougher, a little lower. He gets riled up even thinking about it, but he tries to grin when he looks at her, his eyebrows climb up his forehead, hoping that she won’t be mad at him. 

There’s a slight frown on her face, but then she smiles back and it’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen tonight. 

Quickly, she strides over and jumps up, Dean catches her on instinct, wraps his arms around her middle, his hand supports her below her ass as she hooks her feet on the small of his back, her arms are around his neck. 

“You’re going to fight for me?” She asks, her forehead pressed to his. She’s so close, and the familiar feeling is back again. 

The feeling that  _ it’s her _ . 

It’s fucking  _ her _ .

“I’m not going to give up easily, not anymore,” He assures her. It’s just… it’s hard for him to believe his own words. He hopes she does. 

Her lips meet his and Dean smiles into the kiss. It’s clumsy and bumpy and god, he missed it. He fucking missed having her in his arms. 

Dean walks over to the bed with her still in his arms, he places her down slowly and gets on his knees at the foot of the bed. She looks at him expectantly and Dean takes his time, taking off his jacket before his hand finds her thighs. 

Leaning in, he kisses her again, his fingers finding the knot of her bathrobe, pulling it loose before he pulls at the robe, taking it off her shoulders. She lets him, sucks on his tongue as he does it. It almost makes him forget his own goddamn name. 

He breaks the kiss only to look down at her body, sees that she isn’t wearing anything, has probably taken a shower to remove the traces of Dick off her skin. She smells flowery when he thinks of it. His mind was too busy thinking about her so his nose didn’t pick up the scent right away. 

His hand goes to her tit, cups one of them in his hand, feels it warm and soft in his palm. His finger grazes over her nipple, twists it between his fingers to make them peak, pinches it lightly, making her moan out and he chuckles. He captures her mouth again, wants to drink her in before he moves any further. 

Leaving her delicious lips, his mouth works its way down her throat and nibbles at her skin as she pushes her back with one hand. She lets herself drop on her elbows, while she watches him taking his time with her tits. He swirls his tongue around her nipple, sucks them into his mouth hard while his hand kneads at the other one. 

“God,” Y/N throws her head back, her eyes are heavily lidded. He sees it when he risks a glance up. 

Dean smirks when her eyes meet his again, “Call me Dean,” He mumbles with her nipple still between his teeth and she rolls her eyes back playfully. 

He missed that too. He’d miss the playfulness of them. 

Kissing along her stomach, he goes further down, leaves a trail of hot kisses along her skin that’s riddled with goosebumps. It’s crazy how affected she is by him. He can’t imagine that he really thought he could ever forget all about  _ this _ . Forget about the connection they have. About how much she affects him too. 

His dick is straining in his pants, pushing against the zipper, but he ignores it. It’s not about him. It’s about her. It’s about him showing her that she’s fucking  _ his _ . That he’s not going to end without a fight. He still needs to call Naomi, but he pushes that to later, wanting to enjoy this moment right now. 

He places his hand on her knees, spreads them apart and his breathing picks up when he sees the wetness glistening around her pretty pussy. Grabbing her by the back of her knees, he pushes her legs back some more, groans at the scent of her arousal that hits his nose. 

Dean looks up to her, sees her tugging her bottom lip between her teeth as she anticipates him. He moves his eyes to her pussy, sees it clenching, her hole is practically winking at him, winking at how much she  _ wants  _ him. It makes him feel proud and he chuckles. His eyes go back to her face, holding her eye contact as he opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue. 

His saliva drips down to her entrance from the drooling his mouth makes and he presses the tip of his tongue right there to her hole, licks a broad stripe up, parting her lips with it to flick it against her sensitive center.

Y/N arches her back, her legs are trembling, but Dean’s grip on the back of her knees is firm. He chuckles as there’s a moan coming from her lips that sounds like his name. It spurs him on, it makes him lick and suck at her faster, a little harder, just the way she likes it. 

And that’s the thing. He knows exactly what she likes, knows what gets her going, knows it just by the way her body reacts to his touches. He doesn’t think there’s going to be anyone else he’s even going to try to read like he did her. 

She gets wetter the more he laps at her and Dean growls at the taste as he eagerly drinks it all in. Her one hand goes to his head, fingers curling in his short hair, nails digging into his scalp.

“Oh god,” She moans, “Don’t stop, keep going,” 

He has to chuckle at that. As if he’s going to stop now. Not when she’s so close. His one hand leaves her knees, but she holds it up for him with her free hand, like the fucking good girl she is. Dean slides one finger into her hungry cunt, feels her clenching her walls around his digit, groans at the feel but he’s back to licking her. 

“Dean, don’t stop, I’m gonna come,” 

Her voice is strained and she’s breathing hard and from the way her pussy throbs around his one finger, he feels that it’s just a matter of flicking his tongue right. Still, he adds the rubbing of the pad of his finger that’s inside of her, pushes it against the slicky wall on the inside. He sucks some more and her nails bite into his scalp. 

Dean groans out in pained pleasure. She knows what he likes too and she often uses it against him, which Dean doesn’t think is fair, but he lets it slide just because it’s her.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” She curses above him, “I’m—, fuck—,” 

Her knees press down around him, and he feels his hand getting drenched in her slick. God, it’s the best fucking thing. He loves how wet she gets when she comes. Dean eagerly laps at her juices, pulling his finger out to get better access as he licks her through her aftershock. 

Smacking his lips, he comes up from her pussy, kisses his way up her body until he’s able to kiss her lips, “You’re mine,” He whispers and she grins, moaning something into his mouth that sounds a lot like  _ yes _ . 

“Get on the floor,” Dean whispers against her mouth and she nods to which Dean has to grin again. 

_ Jesus _ , she’s his and he’s going to fucking show her. 

Pushing himself away from the bed, Dean begins to unbutton his shirt as she kneels on the floor before him, her hands working on his belt buckle, gets it open and pulls the zipper down. She helps him untie the laces on his shoes, helps him get out of them and pulls his socks off as well. 

Dean watches her work her hands into his pants, pulling them down along with his underwear. His dick slaps wetly against his lower stomach and she again helps him stepping out of the excess clothing.

As soon as he’s naked, she’s on him, her hand fists around his dick, making him hiss out a groan as she flicks her tongue against his frenulum. Instead of sealing her lips around his cock head, though, she works her lips down his shaft, kissing down his dick wetly. God, the view of her is almost enough to tip him over, but he’s holding on, albeit by a very thin thread, but he does. 

Her mouth skims over his balls and she nuzzles her face right below them, her tongue flicks at the underside of his heavy sac. His dick rests hard and heavy over her nose, the tip’s on her forehead, leaking profoundly. 

“Jesus, your tongue,” Dean grits his teeth, “So good, baby,” 

He’s actually surprised he can still bring something coherent past his lips by this stage. 

“That tongue,” He whispers, “That’s mine, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Came her answer and it seems like she buries her face deeper, smothering herself with his dick and balls. 

“Say it baby,” Dean demands lowly, “Say it’s mine,”

Y/N swallows, “It’s yours,” She mumbles against his ball sac. 

“Good girl,” He praises. 

She looks up at him then, smirks a little, before she kisses his balls, opens her mouth enough to suck one of them in and Dean growls at that. The combination of her looking up, with his dick resting hard on her face and his balls in her mouth. Jesus, he’d like to take a picture of it. 

After a while of toying with his balls, she moves up his shaft again, and this time, she sucks the tip into her mouth, suckles at it while her tongue flicks against his frenulum on the inside of her mouth. 

God, it makes him fucking crazy and Dean shudders noticeably. She pops his dick out of her mouth and chuckles before she spits on her hand and wraps it around his cock. She moves her hand up and down, working in her spit before she begins to take him in again, bobbing her head on his shaft while she jerks him where her mouth can’t reach. 

“Your mouth,” He exhales loudly, “Fuck, your mouth. That’s mine, too.” 

“Uh-huh,” She agrees with his dick in her mouth.

“Words, baby,” 

“It’s yours,” She then hums around his dick, it sends vibrations through his whole body. 

“That’s right,” Dean whispers low, “You’re fucking mine,” 

She gobbles him down. The slurping sound is loud in the hotel room. Jesus, if Dick could see them, Dick would know that she’s never going to be his, that she’s going to always be Dean’s. 

At one point she pushes him in too far, gags and chokes on his cock and Dean pulls himself off of her, a thick string of saliva still attaches her mouth to the tip of his dick and he breaks the string with his finger, scoops it up and pushes it into her mouth before he grabs her around her neck to pull her up. He kisses her roughly, tasting himself off her tongue. 

“Fuck, you’re mine,” He growls and it’s more to himself than to her. It’s more for him to fucking remember that she’s his and that he should fight for what belongs to him. 

He lifts her up and drops her onto the bed before he turns her around and props her up on her knees. Her ass sticks out and Dean can’t help but have another taste. Dean kneels on the bed and buries his nose deep into the cleft of her ass, tongue toying with her entrance and he slurps at it, drinks from her. 

Letting go off her pussy with a last suck, he positions himself behind her. His big hands knead at her ass, making it jiggle and letting it go only to do it again. She’s wriggling with her ass, too, moans something about him  _ hurrying up _ . 

Chuckling, he kneads again. He takes his time and this time, he spanks down on them, does it hard too, making her yelp up and push her ass back against his hard cock. 

“My god, your ass,” He spanks again, “That’s mine too, isn’t it?”

“God, yes,” She moans into the sheets, “Yours,”

“Good girl,” Dean grins and takes his dick in his hand, threads it through her slit in the front before he moves it back to her entrance, “My good fucking girl,” He purrs before he pushes himself in, growling when he feels her walls hugging him tightly. 

Dean leans forward when he fills her up until they’re skin on skin and he’s in there so deep, feels the resistance of her cervix. He grabs a handful of her hair, yanks at it so she arches her back and he pushes himself on her. Her knees give out and she lays down, her ass is the only thing that is still propped up in the air like the good girl she is. 

He licks and sucks at her exposed throat while he pulls his dick back, only to slam it right back in, “Fuck, your pussy’s so fucking good,”

Repeating his thrusts a couple of more times, she grunts and moans under him. He fucks her harder, slams his pelvis against her amazing ass. 

“It’s yours, Dean,” She breathes out.

“Yeah?” He chuckles.

“Yeah,”

“That’s right, your pussy’s fucking mine, baby,” He makes a point by fucking into her a little bit harsher, emphasizes his words with it, “Say it. I want you to say it,”

“Ah,” She moans, “Yours, this pussy is yours,”

“Damn right it is,” He growls and turns her head with one hand, kisses her hard, tongue going in as deep as he fucks her. 

It’s after a while of rough fucking later that he pushes himself off her. His body comes off with sticky sweat and he sits down on the bed, pulls at her leg, “C’mere, sit on my dick, fuck yourself on me, baby,” 

Y/N does what she’s told, braces both feet next to his thigh, her hands hooked behind his neck as she lowers herself on his dick, moaning as she goes. 

Dean sits back, enjoys her bouncing on his cock, enjoys the tight grip her pussy has on him. He throws his head back, bites on his fucking tongue as he feels his balls draw up.

“Baby, I’m gonna come, where do you want me?” 

She’s still bouncing feverishly, her breathing is ragged, “Come in me, I want you to fill up this pussy of yours,”

Jesus, who taught her to talk so fucking filthy? Dean loves it, of course he does. Fuck. 

“Come with me, can you do that, baby? Huh? Come on my cock?” His one hand goes to her clit, thumb rubbing at it, because he’s close but he’s not going to come unless she comes with him.

“Y— yes,” She pants, “God, I’m—,”

“Just like that, baby, come with me, that’s good. That’s a good girl,” He purrs as he feels her walls tightening. Jesus, he’s going to blow too.

Finally, there’s the squelch of her pussy on his cock, milking his cum out of him for all he’s worth. 

Dean grunts out lowly, growls some more as his dick starts to twitch inside of her fluttering cunt. He surges forward, wraps his arms around her and buries his face into the crook of her neck. Her heart thunders in her chest, he can feel the vibrations of it on his cheek. 

“Mine,” He whispers low, kisses and licks at her salty skin. 

  
  
  


____________________________________________________

  
  
  


They sat there for a while longer. Dean’s head on her chest, her hands stroking at his hair, shoulder and back. It was good. Real good. It makes her feel that things are going to be okay, that together, they will find a way for her to get out of this misery. 

She kisses his forehead, his brows, his eyes and his nose, which makes him chuckle. 

“Remember what I told you the last time? What you should remember? Us?” He asks, placing a kiss on her collarbone. 

“Yeah,” 

“That. Don’t forget it, okay?” 

“Why? What will happen?”

Dean breathes out, “I don’t know. Just know that whatever may come, I’ll always be the guy back then, alright? I’ll always be the guy I am now. With you.” 

“You’re scaring me,” She frowns.

There’s a chuckle again, “I’m scared too. But I’ve got to take care of a lot of things now and if I’m lucky, I can get you out of here, okay?”

Y/N doesn’t understand what he is saying because it sounds like a complicated riddle to her. She also doesn’t really know what he means, but she trusts him, so she nods her head. 

“Good,” He kisses her nose, and then he lifts her up over his shoulder, making her giggle as he carries her into the bathroom. 

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


After they showered, Dean dresses himself and she slips into panties and her sleep shirt that is his. 

Dean smiles when he sees it, pulls her close by the collar and leaves a lingering kiss, “I’ll work on it, okay? Give me time,” 

She licks at her lips that taste like Dean and nods. Although she doesn’t know how much time there will be left.

  
  
  
  


*

  
  
  


It’s after Dean has gone that she notices his phone laying on the floor by the end of the bed. He must have dropped it and forgot to pick it up after he got dressed. She’s sure that he’ll be back for it since he said that he has to make a phone call and it’s hard to do that without a phone.

She sits and waits on the bed with his phone in hand. Pushing the side button, it lights up with a generic background image, and there are two missed calls from a number he hasn’t saved in his phone. It’s nothing unusual, really. But while she waits, Y/N decides to have some fun with it. She swipes left on the phone and it opens to the camera. She takes a couple of selfies. With a fish face, with a kiss face, with a duck face, one where she sticks her tongue out, one where she smiles. Dean will have a good laugh when he’s going to see it, she thinks. 

It’s not even ten minutes later that there’s a knock at the door with a voice that shouts “Room service!”

Laughing, she pushes herself off the bed and walks to the door with his phone in hand. 

However, she lets the phone drop as she opens the door to look into the barrel of Nick’s gun.

“Hello, princess,”


	30. Chapter.29

As soon as Dean is in his room, he drops his jacket onto the bed, walks over to the minibar and takes out a bottle of water and almost drains it in one go. He looks into the bar again, this time taking out a mini bottle of whisky, opens it up and drains that too. Making his way back over, he sits down on the bed and rubs his face with both hands, mentally preparing himself for the talk with Naomi. 

Dean has to tell her about the wedding, even though _ impending doom _ would be a much better word for it. He already knows what his supervisor’s going to say. He knows that she’ll want him to hold on till then, wants him to fucking arrange everything until then so they can bring both families down on the same fucking day. There has never been a better opportunity. 

Taking a deep breath once more, he dips his hand into his pant pocket, searches for his phone, but there’s nothing there.

_ Shit. _

He must have dropped his phone in her room. 

Dean stands up immediately, doesn’t bother to get back into his jacket, walks out like that and takes the stairs to go up to her floor.

When he arrives on her floor, he thinks there’s something weird. He can’t quite put a finger on it, but there’s a feeling in his gut that tells him that things aren’t as they should be. 

His gut feeling is seldom wrong and it gets stronger the closer he gets to her room. The door’s standing ajar. It’s dark inside except for the bedside lamp with its warm glow. His phone is on the floor close to the door. 

“Y/N?” Dean calls out, but there’s no answer. 

He walks further into the room. It’s a stupid thing to do because he doesn’t have a fucking gun on him but he just had to. He spots her phone on her nightstand, but there’s nothing disturbed in the room. Everything still looks the way he had left it a couple of minutes earlier. The only thing missing is Y/N.

Just when he wants to take a look at his phone, it starts to vibrate in his hand.

Nick.

“What?” Dean growls into the phone after he slides his thumb over the screen to pick it up. He really does not have time for fucking Nick when she’s fucking missing. 

“Wow, hello to you too, big guy,” Nick sneers.

“What do you want, Nick,”

“I might have something you’re looking for,” The man sneers and Dean can hear the taunt in his voice. 

But that’s not the only thing Dean hears. He can also hear the sound of an engine in the background. Nick’s probably driving, which means that the guy has a head start, but he can’t have got too far.

“Where is she?” Dean growls. God he’s angry. He knew it was a mistake to have kept that fucker alive.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, huh?”

“Jesus Christ, just tell me! Why did you take her?” All those years in the bureau and being taught how to deal with kidnappers are thrown overboard. It’s hard not to get emotional when feelings are involved. 

“Don’t tell me you don’t know, Dean? Bela? What happened to Bela, huh? A girl for a girl, dumbass!”

_ Dumbass _ ? Really? Who says that anymore? Fuck, he gets even angrier.

Dean’s lips are pressed into a thin straight line, “You fucking idiot, you kidnapped Azazel’s daughter? You’re going to be in so much trouble.”

He tries to tell Nick that it’s not only him that’s going to be after him once the King knows about it.

“Meh,” Nick says nonchalantly, “Don’t care.”

“Why did you call me? What do you want? I ain’t got any ransom money.”

Nick smirks, Dean can hear it, “I want you to push that business plan of Benny’s through. That way, Benny and me, we can branch out on our own, we don’t need the fucking family no more.”

“Did Benny tell you to do this, huh? Are you his right-hand man who’s doing the dirty work for him?” 

“I’m not doing the dirty work for him. We’re equal.”

Dean snorts loudly, “Yeah, right. See, that’s the thing. Benny made you kidnap Y/N. Benny made you call me. Where’s the equality in this, huh?”

He really is just trying to buy some time, but it’s an added bonus when Nick gets irritated and he apparently is because he doesn’t say anything for quite some time. 

“Anyway, Dean,” Nick says when he recovers from Dean’s words, “I don’t have time to fucking play around. All you have to do is tell Azazel to go through with the plan and the princess will come back to you unscattered. The sooner the better, isn’t it? So that nobody will even know that she was missing in the first place.”

“Fuck you,” Dean scoffs loudly and hangs up. He hurries out of Y/N’s room and takes the stairs up to his. 

Entering the room he puts in his in-ear headphone and calls Naomi while he takes his gun holster from the hook on the side of the door. Dean’s doing the last safety check, when Naomi picks up.

“Look at the business plan Benny gave me. I remember seeing addresses of abandoned clubs he’s already signed a lease on,” He growls into the phone.

“Well, it’s nice to hear from you too, Dean,” Naomi says, but she seems to know that it’s a pressing matter so she types something up on her laptop and pulls up the information, “Yeah, I have it. What’s going on?”

“Nick kidnapped Y/N. Wants me to push that business plan through so they can get a headstart with Azazel’s money. As soon as they set it up, they will split from the family.”

“So they took her for leverage,” Noami says calmly.

“Azazel doesn’t know yet. They want me to talk to him the sooner the better, so nobody will know that she’s missing.”

“Uh-huh,” Naomi nods, “And you’re going to be the fucking hero and go in to get her before anyone knows about anything at all.”

Dean chuckles, “You know me so well,”

“Dean,”

“Get Ash to pull up the blueprints. If possible, get him to guide me through.”

There’s static on the phone and soon, Ash can be heard talking. 

“Ash, look at the addresses we have there, let me know which one seems to be the better one to hold someone hostage. I know they are two in the city but they are on the opposite sides, I can’t possibly cover both.”

“What if we take one?” Naomi suggests.

“No,” 

“No?”

“No, I want to be at the right place. I want to be there for her and not having Feds storming in left and right. It would upset her,”

“Right,” Noami says, but he knows that she’s not really happy about it.

Dean walks out of his room not even bothering to wear his suit jacket to conceal the gun holster around his shoulder. Walking along the empty hallway, he calls for the elevator that leads him to the underground garage where his car is parked.

He had lost connection in the elevator, had to dial in again and Naomi set him up with the conference call one more time.

Even though Dean wants to drive out right away, he knows that he can’t rush this one. Getting a headstart in the wrong direction wouldn’t give him any advantages. 

“Right, we have two clubs in the city,” Ash says and Dean hears the clicking of a keyboard in the background, “One has been abandoned for quite some time, the other one just closed its door last month,”

“The one that’s been abandoned, check that one,” Dean says calmly, “Is it near the docks by any chance?”

“Yeah, you must have looked it up?” Ash asks.

“Wild guess,” Dean says, “Pull up the blueprint. I want to know about the basement,”

It was another two minutes until Ash answered and Dean started his engine before he put his car into gear to drive out. He has the feeling that he hit the jackpot. 

“How did you know?” Ash asks, “It used to be some kind of a weird swinger club. It has strings of rooms in the basement.”

“That’s where they keep the girls,” Dean says and speeds up, running a light that’s almost red.

“You mean the girls we are after?” Naomi chimes in.

“Yeah,” Dean grips his steering wheel tighter, “I have a feeling Dick has something to do with it. They said Dick’s gonna provide the girls, but the business plan didn’t mention how he’s going to do it. There are so many clubs, they have to have so many girls. Dick freaked out when I raised the false alarm tonight that a shipment arrived earlier than expected. It’s something important and I doubt that it’s about the narcotics from China because that already arrived. Things don’t add up as much as I want them to add up. Who would leave their own engagement party for a shipment?”

“His engagement party?” Naomi says.

“Ash, can you pull up my phone and guide me to the club?” Dean asks before he wants to even consider going on.

“Sure thing, take a left on the next intersection, traffic is lighter that way,”

“Thanks,” He says, “Yeah, he got engaged to the King’s daughter.”

“He what?” Naomi and Ash say in unison.

“Azazel wants to fuse their family, thinks that it can make them stronger,”

“That’s huge!” Naomi exclaims, “Why is this the first time I’m hearing of it?”

Dean rolls his eyes as he takes the left at the intersection.

“Next, take a right,” Ash says.

“I only got wind of it two days ago,” Dean mumbles, “I had to help arrange things and couldn’t get the info out to you,” He lies. 

“More reason for you to stay and take both families down,”

“Ugh,” Dean groans. It’s exactly what he had expected her to say.

“That’s the deal, Dean.” Naomi reminds him.

“Yeah, about that,” Dean takes the right turn. 

“The second intersection left,” Ash chimes in.

“Did you change your mind?” Naomi asks.

“No, but I have new conditions,” Dean says.

“We’ll discuss them when you drop by.” Naomi cuts in. Maybe it’s not because she doesn’t want to hear it. It’s more that their conditions must stay confidential and Ash is not supposed to listen in.

  
  
  


*

  
  


Dean told Ash that he wants to park a block away so as not to raise suspicion. While he runs to the abandoned club, Ash and Naomi stay on the phone with him, ready to dispatch help when needed.

The streets are empty and the night’s cool. There’s no sign of Dick or his men, and Dean guesses that they must have returned back to the Plaza. He wonders if Dick will raise the alarm if he notices that Y/N’s gone. He doubts that Dick will notice at all, doubts very much he even checks in on his fiancée. 

It’s probably Y/N who worked out that they don’t stay in the same room and who can blame her, really. She didn’t even know that she’s going to get engaged until a couple of hours prior. 

As he rounds up the corner to the club, he notices two cars that clearly belong to Benny and Nick. Fucking amateurs. Dean has to chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” Naomi asks.

“They parked their cars right by the club.”

Even Ash has to laugh at that.

“Is there a way for me to go right down to the basement?” Dean asks as he sneaks around the entrance. 

“There’s a goods elevator in the back, but I doubt that it still works.” Ash puts in his two cents, “If they are in the basement, they wouldn’t hear you coming anyway.”

“Yeah,” Dean snorts, “If I’m lucky,” He tries to push the door by the entrance and to his surprise, it gives. It’s almost too easy. Something doesn’t feel right. 

Dean draws his gun as he slowly creeps into the dark space and stands by the door, closes his eyes briefly to make them adjust to the darkness faster. 

When they have adjusted enough, Dean takes a moment to scan the room he’s in. It’s spacious, with some tables overturned, some chairs laying around. 

“‘K, ‘M ready,” He says.

“You see the back door?” Ash asks.

“Yeah, faintly,”

“After that door, there’s a staircase to your left that will lead you right to the basement. Once there, the first two rooms on the left are utility rooms.”

While Ash is still speaking, Dean makes his way towards the back door, almost trips over some bulges in the worn-out carpet flooring. 

“Carpet flooring in a club? Really?” He hisses.

“No wonder they closed. Ew, how unsanitary,” Naomi snorts.

He makes small steps towards the back door now, in case he should trip over something again. 

When he reaches it, he holds his gun up, checks around the corner, but nobody’s there. Dean wonders if it’s only two of them, wonders if Benny didn’t tell his other men to cover the perimeter but then no, why should he. Dean doubts that the other men would be happy knowing that they try to overrule the King. There’s a lot to say about the organization, but it’s remarkable that the ones loyal to the King are in the majority. 

“Okay, going down,” Dean announces. 

Carefully, he descends the stairs. It’s made out of cement, not wood, and he’s thankful for that because the wood would have creaked awfully under his weight. He can be very quiet, but Dean also knows that he’s big and strong and carries a weight around that will definitely make an old stair creak no matter how much he tries for it not to.

Dean slowly descends the rest of the stairs and honestly, he knows that he should hurry, but he can’t rush into it. He’s alone and there are at least two of them. As he reaches the bottom, he can see a dark hallway. The only light source is a bulb at the bottom of the staircase that someone had left burning. 

The two rooms Ash mentioned have their doors closed whilst the other doors are open wide. 

With his gun drawn, Dean quietly walks along the corridor. There are stenches coming out of the open rooms, it stinks of piss and sometimes even shit. He takes a look inside, sees abandoned mats on the floor. Rats are eating away at an old tray where there are leftovers of what once was food. Women's clothes are laying around, high heels and sneakers. 

The backdrop of these rooms looks a lot like the one in the video where he spotted the girl he was looking for.

Dean wants to tell Naomi, but it’s crucial that he stays mum right now. 

As he walks along, he peeks into the other rooms and they all look the same. He wonders what happened to the girls. Wonders if they have been moved or if they all have been sold off. 

It’s quiet for a long time, but then Dean hears it. Murmurs. Someone hissing out their words.

It comes from further back and Dean speeds up, walking swiftly with his gun still drawn. 

He halts when he reaches the room he’s sure they are in. 

“Going in,” He whispers as softly as he can and then he does, gun pointing forward.

To Dean’s surprise, neither of them had a gun in hand, instead, they were grinning because they were expecting him.

There is one single overhead light bulb burning away. The glow of it lights up the whole room. Y/N is strapped to a chair, still in the outfit he left her with. Her head’s low, chin resting on her chest. She’s been drugged, Dean can see it from here. 

“Told you he’s not a fucking idiot,” Benny snickers, “That guy knows everything,” He says to Nick.

“Took him long enough, though,” Nick shrugs.

“Hand her over to me and we’ll forget this ever happened,” Dean tries to reason with Benny, “I won’t tell Azazel, and you forget about the business. I’m giving you a choice here. Walk away, walk out of the family, go set up something elsewhere.”

“You took Bela, Dean. The only woman who meant something to me,” Benny spits out his words, “It’s not about the family. It never was. It’s just a false narrative we made up to get you here. Do I look like I care about the business right now? I have made another deal already, so you can shove my business plan up your fucking ass. Dick’s gonna give me everything I ask for.”

“What’s it about then?”

Benny’s lips start to widen into a grin, “You killed my girl, so I’m gonna kill yours,”

Dean presses his lips to a thin line, “Is that so? What would Dick say if you killed his future wife?”

Nick snorts loudly, “Duh, we’d make you out to be the bad guy, man. You are really dumber than fucking toast.”

Ah. 

“You lured me out here so you can kill her in front of me and put blood on my hands?”

Nick snorts out again, louder this time while he simultaneously draws his gun, “How fucking dum—”

Dean pulls the trigger, places a bullet right in between Nick’s eyebrows. 

“What happened?” Naomi whispers into Dean’s ear.

“He talked too much,” Dean shrugs, “And he pulled a gun on me,”

“That’s no excuse,” Naomi warns him, “Dean, don’t kill Benny! We need him alive!”

At the sound of another cocking gun, Dean turns his head to meet Benny, who’s holding the gun to Y/N’s head. 

_ This fucking asshole. _

“You know you don’t have to do this, right?” Dean asks, even though he knows full well that Benny won’t listen to him. It’s his way to buy more time to fucking think straight.

“Yeah, right,” Benny chuckles, “Now that you know everything I have to kill you, you know that, right?”

“Dean, don’t!” Naomi whispers in his ear, but Dean pushes it to the back of his mind, pretends to not have heard it which could be true since his heart is beating out of his chest and there’s a ringing in his ears from the last shot he fired. 

Benny goes on, “I’ll move your bodies, make it look like you two lovebirds agreed on a suicide pact because you couldn’t bear the thought of being apart with her being married off to Dick Roman,”

Well, Dean can’t even lie that it sounds plausible. He bets that Benny could spin it and make it perfectly believable. Maybe Azazel would be heartbroken. Maybe he’d go crazy and blame himself to the point that he’s unable to lead the family and Benny would probably just swing right in, taking the spot on the vacant throne.

“What if I say that I’m a cop and everything you said has been listened in to by my supervisor?” Dean cocks his eyebrow and his gun at the same time, “I’m sorry to say, but you’re busted, buddy,”

Benny’s gun leaves Y/N’s head for a brief second as he frowns out of confusion and in that millisecond that the guy needs to process the facts Dean just threw at him, Dean takes the opportunity, fires a shot that busts up the man’s jaw. The impact makes Benny stagger back and Dean fires again, hitting him square in the face. 

“Dean!” Naomi screams into his ear, “Winchester! Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” He breathes hard, “Yeah, I’m okay. It’s a little of an overkill but eh,” He shrugs.

“You killed him,” Naomi exhales.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Your actions will be evaluated and I am waiting for a report.” The tone of her voice suggests to Dean that she’s not happy about it. 

“I know,” He replies. 

“Should we send an ambulance?”

“Nah, I’m taking her to Lazaretto. But maybe you could clean this up? Also, from the video, I think this was the place where they auctioned off the girls. Bet Dick’s behind all of it.”

“When will we see you?” Naomi asks.

“I’ll try to come in as soon as I can. I have some explaining and cleaning up to do around here. Okay, I gotta go, bye,”

Dean doesn’t actually wait for an answer, fishes out his phone and hangs up before yanking the earpiece out of his ear and slips it into the pocket along with his phone. He needed to get them off his back before he could turn his attention to her. 

He’s quick to be by her side, releases her hand from the binds with his pocket knife and lowers himself down to feel her pulse. Her heart’s beating, albeit slow. He notices a puncture wound in her neck, probably the place where they administered the drug. Jesus, he gets so mad again. If the guys weren’t already laying on the ground with blood gushing out of their open head wounds, he’d for sure kill them now.

“Baby, I’m here,” He whispers, cradling her unconscious face in between his big palms, kisses her forehead that’s a little cold, “C’mon, let's get you out of here,”

Scooping her up into his arms, Dean makes a quick exit and instead of walking to his car, he tries the handle of one of the other cars. It opens straight up and Dean walks to the passenger’s side, sets her inside and secures the seat belt around her. She stirs when he pets her cheek, but she’s not really conscious yet. 

Sitting back behind the wheel, Dean pulls at the wires below the console, connects two of them to jump-start the car. 

“C’mon, c’mon,” He mumbles as he’s trying. At the fourth try, the car starts up and Dean sets it into reverse and drives it backward with a screeching sound, before he turns to drive towards Lazaretto.


	31. Chapter.30

Y/N wakes to sunlight shining into the room. She feels tired, feels like she’s hungover. After a while, she realizes that it’s not her room. At least not the hotel room she’s booked in and at a third glance, it’s not her room at home either.

Looking around her for clues as to where she is, her eyes take in the interior of the room. She realizes that she’s in a hospital room and then it dawns on her. She has a tube that goes in the back of her hand and from the hospital gown she’s wearing, she has the feeling that she’s in Lazaretto. 

What she doesn’t know is how she got here.

Pushing herself up with one hand, she tries to sit up straighter but there’s something heavy on the thin hospital blanket that covers her body. Looking down, she sees Dean who has his head on her bed on top of the sheets. His mouth is slightly open. He’s drooling a little too. Only his head is on the bed, his arms are hanging down on his sides. It looks comical, looks absolutely adorable. It makes her chuckle.

When she pulls at the blanket harder, he stirs before he sits back up. One of his hands goes to rub at his eyes while the other one brushes at his mouth. It takes him a couple of seconds to realize that she’s awake.

He smiles brightly when he sees her, the crinkles around his eyes showing. His hand tries to quickly find hers, squeezes it when he does. 

“Hey,” Dean says, his voice is still rough from sleep, “How are you feeling?”

“I feel like a truck ran me over,” She groans. Which is true. She feels so exhausted.

“Do you remember anything?” He asks while he stands up to sit on the edge of her bed. She notices that he’s still wearing the shirt and pants from last night, but his jacket's missing and there’s the gun holster around his shoulder. God, it looks sexy. It shouldn’t turn her on as much as it does, right? Not when she’s in a fucking hospital bed with an IV drip hanging from her veins.

She can’t help but make a joke, cocking her eyebrow as she does, “The mind-blowing sex?” 

Dean’s eyes widen before she can see the color in his cheek rising. But his lips curve up to a grin too. 

With her next breath, she becomes serious because she thinks back to what she remembers, “I remember Nick pointing a gun at me, did he—”

“—He’s dead. So is Benny. Don’t worry about them,” Dean states, as if it’s no big deal. He tucks her hair behind her ear and there must be a confused look on her face because Dean notices. He chuckles softly before he continues, “They kidnapped you, wanted to blackmail your father for money for a business project which turns out they don’t really need anyway. I’ve learned that the main goal is to take over and apparently they didn’t spare any effort,”

They are dead? She needs a couple of seconds for the news to settle.

_ Oh my god _ , Dean?

“Did you?” She asks with a frown and she doesn’t really know why she’s frowning. If Dean killed them it’s because they probably deserved it.

“Yeah,” Dean nods solemnly. With his next breath, he grins a little, and she knows that he tries to lighten up the mood, “Told you, no one touches what’s mine,” 

As soon as he has said it, Dean leans down, places a kiss on her forehead.

“They drugged me, didn’t they? Did they try to kill me?” 

Dean sighs, and she knows it’s because he’s trying to form words in his head that won’t scare her, but she’s a big girl, she can take it. 

“Yeah, they wanted to kill both of us and make me out to be the bad guy.”

“Ugh,” She breathes out and Dean chuckles, “How did my dad react?”

She doesn’t really know why she asks. Maybe she wanted to know if he still cares about her enough to show up after what his daughter went through. Perhaps she wants to know if there’s still a shred of morality left in her dad, even after he gave her away for marriage. Perhaps, she tries to clutch at the leftover straw that she knows will sink eventually.

“He has been informed. I was working with him to uncover snitches these past few weeks. He’s now working to re-arrange his organization,”

“Has he been to see me?”

“Yeah, he’s been here,” Dean flips his wrist to take a look at his watch, “He’s actually left about two hours ago.”

“And Dick?”

Well, she definitely doesn’t know why she asks that, but she wonders if Dick is interested in her at all. Not that she is, but he’s her fiancé now and he can at least play that part.

“Nope.” Dean shakes his head.

“Ugh.” 

Dean doesn’t say anything else to it, and she takes it as a clue that he doesn’t like to talk about Dick, which is fair.

There’s a long pause after that and then Dean breaks the silence, “I saw your pictures.”

“Yeah?” Her heart starts to flutter and a warmness creeps up to her face.

“Yeah,” He smiles, “I should make it my lock screen,”

“Oh no,”

He chuckles and places a kiss on her forehead, “You should rest, I’ll be right here, okay?” 

“Dean, I’m okay, I don’t need to rest,” She says, and she doesn’t know, but she feels like addressing the big fucking elephant in the room that they are trying to avoid by talking about everything else that doesn’t seem to be relevant, “What will happen now? It’s risky for us to run away, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” He agrees, “It is. But I was thinking, maybe, now that I have Benny and Nick out of the way, your father might want to change his stance since his organization is not going to blow up from the inside anymore?”

She frowns, “What do you mean?” 

“I don’t know,” Dean pushes himself off the bed to pace the room and he gets riled up because he throws his hands around, “That maybe, your father will appoint me his underboss? Maybe he’d let me be the next in line!”

When she thinks about it, it would make sense. Dean eliminated Benny and Nick. He showed loyalty to her father and her father usually rewards his hard-working men. 

“And what would that mean?” She asks, “Being the underboss doesn’t make him like you more for wanting to be with his daughter.”

“But that’s exactly the thing, no? Isn’t that good?” He comes back to the bed lowers himself and braces his elbows on the bed while he grabs at her hand, clutches in between his big palms, “There’s nothing in the way anymore? He’d accept me for wanting to be with you. He’d blow off the marriage to Dick. The prenup’s still being finalized. It’s not signed yet.”

She shakes her head. Dean doesn’t understand. He just doesn’t. But how can he, her father probably didn’t trust him enough to let him know that their money's running out. Her eyes well with tears and she looks away to the other side.

“Baby,” Dean whispers, his hand goes to her chin, tilting her head back towards him, “Right? Your father will be okay with it. I can step in and continue your family business.”

Does he really want an answer from her? It seems like Dean is clutching at the same straw she is. He sounds desperate and it breaks her heart. 

He can probably see the tears in her eyes and god, he’s teary too. If her heart wasn’t breaking enough before, it sure is now shattered into little pieces. 

“Dean,” She sniffs, “Dad hasn’t told you everything,”

“What do you mean?” He frowns and his thumb brushes at the tear that rolls down her cheek. When she doesn’t answer right away, he asks again, “Baby, what do you mean?”

Y/N takes a deep breath before she answers him, “We’re not doing well financially. The only way we can get out of it seems to be if I marry Dick,”

“No,” 

She nods, “Yes. And I know it’s not fair to anyone, especially to me, but I think if we can’t run away together and leave it all behind, there’s no way that dad will leave us be. If I stay, I’m going to marry Dick and it doesn’t matter if you’re his next in line or not.”

“No,” Dean says again and he shakes his head as if he doesn’t want to believe her words, as if he’s trying to shake the information she delivered him out of his mind, “No.”

He gets up again, rubs a hand over his face, and pinches at the bridge of his nose, “I can’t,” Dean starts to pace around the room, “I..we can’t,” He mumbles. 

Her tears are flowing, there’s no chance to stop them. 

“Then it’s over,” She whispers and Dean walks over to where she is, “Right? We’re over?”

She can’t really believe her own words that she had to push past her lips. She doesn’t want it to be over. It’s in both their best interests to end things before it can start, right? She loves him and she probably always will, but if they can’t have a future, what’s the point really? 

“‘M sorry,” He apologizes and she doesn’t really know what for. Maybe it’s for the fact that he can’t run away with her. Maybe it’s the fact that he accepts that it’s over so easily. She doesn’t know, but what she does know is that Dean leans down and he presses his lips to hers, kisses her bruisingly hard and she knows that it’s the last kiss they’ll probably ever share. 

He slips out of the room quietly and she drifts into melancholy. 

  
  
  


***

  
  


It’s been a week since she was released from hospital, and she hasn’t talked to Dean, but she’s heard that her dad really appointed him his underboss. She bets Dean has a handful of things to take care of now since the new consigliere is not appointed yet. Dean’s moved out too, apparently, he had gotten himself an apartment just down the street to be close to the house, but she wonders why he rents another apartment when he still has one. 

All these things, she knows from Ellen. And usually, Ellen’s not the one to talk, but maybe the woman did because Y/N had been begging Ellen to tell her what’s going on. 

She mostly spends her time in her room, reading and watching TV, being her melancholic self. Every now and then, she would visit the restaurant when she felt like she needed cheering up from Jo and Garth, but she didn’t want to be there too often because there is a high chance she’d run into Dean. 

It’s not like she doesn’t see him. He’s often there when Dick comes by the house and that’s really the only time she wanders out of the room. Dick’s around a lot, talking to her dad and he would touch her all the time, lay his arm around her waist, and kiss her too. It’s to claim his stake, she knows. She can’t read Dean. Sometimes he’d just look away when Dick shows her affection. Sometimes, though, he’d cough and interrupt them and when her eyes meet Dean’s, they’d look at her grumpily. 

Y/N doesn’t like to be around Dick. But that’s her reality now and she tries to get accustomed to it as good as she can. She doesn’t always flinch when his lips touch her like she used to. Maybe, though, it’s because she has become numb. Who knows, really. 

This morning, when she walks into the dining hall, she’s greeted by the whole gang. Everyone’s here. Dad, Dick, Zach, Crowley, and Dean. They are eating breakfast and drinking their coffee. 

“Hello princess,” Dick says and stands up to walk over to her, pulls her to him by her waist, and places a kiss on her cheek. 

Dean coughs up a storm, his fist punches at his chest, “Sorry, wrong pipe,” He says while he coughs some more. 

Dick seems to ignore him, he too has become accustomed to interruptions, “I have news for you,” 

“Yeah?” She asks, wondering what it could be.

He leaves her side to grab at a file that’s been laying by his coffee on the dining table, “Take a look,” He urges her.

“Okay,” She says, smiling out of politeness as she opens up the file.

The first thing Y/N sees is a picture of a wedding dress. The second thing she sees is a plan of their backyard with design sketches of tables and chairs. She rifles through, sees the name of the caterer, names of photographers, a fucking wedding schedule.

“You planned our wedding?”

“Yeah,” Dick smirks cockily, “It’s going to be in six days. The weather is going to be nice.” 

He had planned it without even asking her. He even chose a wedding dress for her. Oh god, it makes her feel sick. Her hand goes to her stomach.

“I have to sit down,” She says and grabs at the closest chair, dropping the file onto the table. She probably looks pale, not that anyone would notice anyway. 

The maid finished wrapping up her plate and brought it out and is about to set it in front of her. Before she can even say that she’s not hungry and that she’d probably get sick when she smells the food, Dick jumps in.

“She’ll just be having an orange juice,”

“I’m what?” She asks, it’s not like she’s hungry, but she can still speak for herself, thank you fucking much, Dick-ward.

“Yeah,” Dick takes a seat next to her and it’s weird that everyone sees how she’s doing and how Dick treats her, but none of them has the balls to tell that dude off. “You’re having a dress fitting today and I want you to look good on our wedding day so you better get on a little diet until then. Lose some pounds, huh?”

“Excuse me, what?”

“Come on, you want to look good for your wedding day, don’t you?” Dick chuckles as he looks into the round. His own father nods with a grin. 

Fuck them all, seriously. 

“I feel sick,” She says and stands up to storm out of the dining room. She just wants to bury herself in her room. 

“Just be ready by 2 PM for the dress fitting, sweetheart!” Dick calls after her. 

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


It’s about an hour after she’s locked herself in her room that there’s a knock at the door. 

“Go away,” She calls out. At this point, she’s past caring who it might be. 

There’s no answer and no further knocking, which is weird. Normally the people who knock are more persistent. 

Curiously, she makes her way out of her bed, unwraps herself from the cocoon of blankets, and walks over to the door. 

She opens up to see nobody there. Is she hearing things now? Who knows, maybe she’s going crazy. Hey, maybe it’s a good thing. Dick wouldn’t want to marry some crazy chick, right? But then there would be others like Dick and she doesn’t know if she can handle them as well as she has learned to handle Dick.

When she closes the door, something catches her eyes. There’s a bottle of something pink and she crouches down to pick it up. It’s a bottle of chewable Pepto Bismol. Probably because she said she was sick before. 

But who was it? Who left a fucking bottle of Pepto Bismol at her door? Ellen isn’t around right now and Ellen’s usually the one who takes care of those things. 

Closing the door, she walks back to her bed with the bottle in hand, takes one out, and chews on it grumpily. Maybe she’d need a dozen of those to get over with the wedding preparations. 

  
  
  


____________________________________________________

  
  
  
  


Dean’s sitting at the bar as he nurses his tumbler of whisky. He needed something to calm his mind, something to help him unwind from the stressful day. The wedding’s in two days and he thinks he’s running out of time. He hadn’t had any news from Naomi, even though she promised him that they are working 24/7. Well, it’s not fast enough, but what can he do now, really. 

He gets frustrated just thinking about it, so he downs his glass and when he’s about to order a new one, the bartender sets a full glass in front of Dean. He looks up at the tender and the guy just shrugs.

“From the woman over there,” The bartender jerks his head towards the woman he was talking about. 

Dean smirks at her and he takes his drinks before walking over to toast it with the gin she’s drinking. 

“Hi, I’m Dean,” He introduces himself, and sits down on the empty stool next to the woman, “Thank you for this,” He holds out his whisky, takes a small sip. 

They talk and Dean almost forgot how easy it is to flirt. He almost forgot how carefree he used to be, chatting up girls, taking them home, never hearing from them again. And he doesn’t know why he does what he does now, but maybe he just wants to forget for a night and who can blame him, really? 

The woman’s clingy, hangs onto his biceps and to his every word. Laughs at the right time at his lame jokes. It’s easy. So fucking easy. Why does he feel guilty, though? 

When the bar’s closing he invites her to his place, thinks of his old apartment because it’s the closest and he’s had a couple of glasses that he shouldn’t have had when he is driving. She attacked his mouth, probably saying  _ yes  _ with a kiss but it’s also too sloppy. He breaks the kiss to get into the car. Maybe with more alcohol at his place, it won’t be that bad.

It’s a short drive, not even five minutes and they stagger up the stairs with her losing her heeled shoes a couple of times. And she giggles to which Dean has to tell her to be quiet. They’re not alone here and he hates to be scolded in the middle of the night by the old lad on the fourth floor. 

He fishes out a key, has to try twice to hit the hole, tells her that he’s ‘ _ usually has no problem hitting my target, if you know what I mean’ _ and the woman erupts in another fit of laughter.

They fall into his apartment and it’s weird that there’s light in the hallway. It’s weirder that there’s light in the living room. He hasn’t been here for days, his mind already thinks of the huge electricity bill that he’s going to have to pay because he wasn’t being careful. 

However, that thought goes straight out the window when he sees Y/N standing up from the couch. Her eyes go from him to the girl next to Dean and back. 

“Who’s that, Dean?” Stacy? Kacey? Fuck, he doesn’t even remember her name anymore. 

Y/N braces her arms over her chest and Dean braces himself for a fight. But instead of fighting, she lets her arms drop to her side and storms past them down the stairs and Dean knows that he has to be quick. 

_ Fuck _ , he didn’t even check the parking lot when he parked his car. It’s like his awareness dropped with the more whisky he drank. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry Stacy, this is not gonna happen,” Dean pushes the woman out of his apartment and closes the door before he follows Y/N down. His hand slides on the railing, careful not to stumble and fall with how clouded his mind is. 

“That’s not my name you asshole!” The woman calls down to him. As if Dean fucking cares. 

He reaches her car as she slams the door shut, his hand goes to the handle, yanks it open. She’s crying while her fingers fumble with the key. Dean reacts fast, snatches it from her hand. 

“Give it back,” She shouts, her voice so full of anger and hurt. Dean’s never seen her this upset before. Not even when they were breaking up.

Letting the key slip into his pant pocket, Dean braces one hand on the roof of the car while he braces the other one on the door, preventing her from getting out and running away from him, “I won’t,”

“Fuck you,” She scoffs. 

“Why are you even here?” He asks her because he’s genuinely curious. Why now? She hasn’t even looked at him in almost two weeks. 

She’s crying some more, “Just,” She starts and there’s a hiccup that Dean shouldn’t find cute but he does, “Just give me the key and I’ll be gone.” 

“I won’t,” Dean states firmly, “I can’t let you drive when you’re this upset.” Which is true, if something happens, it’s on him and he doesn’t want that, “Come up with me, and then we can talk,”

“Ugh,” She groans, “Just go back to your girlfriend, she’s probably waiting,”

As if on cue, the woman comes out of the building, her heels in hand as she pushes past both of them. 

“Fuck you, Dean!” The woman says and shows him the finger.

Dean only looks after her, “Well, get in fucking line, Kacey!”

“That’s not my fucking name, you moron!” The woman shouts back and Dean turns his attention back to Y/N who smirks amid her tears. 

“What?” He asks, but he’s smirking a little too.

“You don’t know her name?”

“I honestly don’t remember,” He chuckles, “But I know yours, give me a break, will ya?” He gets serious afterward, mainly because he really wants to get her out of the car and into his apartment. He feels like there’s more to her being jealous, which is, by the way, absolutely cute, “So, will you tell me what’s up?”

“I don’t know,” She sniffs, “Maybe it’s because I will marry the biggest dick of all dicks in two days? Maybe because I’m starving because I’m not allowed to fucking eat? Maybe it’s because my period’s late again, and maybe because I just need a friend. I feel so fucking alone,” The last syllable comes out a sob, and Dean’s heart sinks. 

_ Fuck _ . He tried way too hard to stay away from her that he pushed the thought out of his head that she could be miserable, because he felt miserable himself. While he had work to occupy himself, she literally had nobody. 

Wordlessly, he scoops her up into his arms and she lets him. She winds her arms around his neck and cries into his chest, “I’m here,” He says, as if it’s enough of an excuse from being absent.

“I’m hungry,” She says as she lets him carry her up the flight of stairs. 

“I’ll make you mac’n’cheese,” He whispers a little breathless from the climb. 

“Extra cheese,” 

Dean chuckles, “Extra cheese,”

He gets into the apartment and drops her down on the couch before he takes off his jacket, folding back the arms of his shirt. Taking out the carton of mac’n’cheese from the pantry, Dean turns to her, “Just a fair warning, I’m quite drunk so I don’t know how good it’ll be.”

She has to giggle at that and he sees her reaching out for the pack of tissues that are sitting on the coffee table to blow her nose with. 

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


They ate right on the couch with their feet propped up on the coffee table and when they finished, they sat there a little longer. 

“I’m sorry,” He says after his mind’s a little bit clearer from the food he ate and the water he drank, “I shouldn’t have been so cold towards you,”

She lays her head on his shoulder, but she doesn’t say anything. It’s because she knows that he’s not finished and maybe she knows that sometimes, Dean needs someone to just listen to him as well. 

“It hurts, you know?” He lays a hand on her thigh as she curls up against him, “He also makes me want to punch him in the face every time I see him.”

There’s a chuckle and Dean joins in. 

“I think it’s his charm,” She says.

“He can shove his charm up his ass,” Dean scoffs to which she laughs. God, he’s missed the sound of her laughter. Dean rubs over her thigh, “How are you feeling? Any Better?”

“Yeah,” Y/N says and leans away from his shoulder to look up at him, “Thank you,”

“You’re welcome,” He says and she moves in, kisses him on the cheek and it’s sweet. Too fucking soft. Dean gets weak, leans into the kiss because god knows how much he missed her touch. His fingers curl into the flesh on her clothed thigh.

It’s weird though, it’s like they are tiptoeing around each other, which is actually fair because neither of them should be doing what they are doing right now. She’s supposed to marry Dick in two days and Dean shouldn’t be the one who stands in the way, even though he really, really wants to.

“What about your period?” He asks, remembers that she told him that she was late and it happened before already and Dean told her then that she should not keep worrying herself and he really intends to be true to his words. 

“I don’t know. It’s only been a day. It could be the stress,” She shrugs. 

Dean might be a little selfish, but he kinds of hopes that it’s not only the stress. He’s far away from ready to be a dad, he thinks, but somehow he wouldn’t mind it if she was pregnant. It would be a good start into something new, wouldn’t it? Although, it would be harder for them to go undetected. If there’s even going to be a new start, that is. He still hasn’t heard from Naomi and it’s killing him.

He pushes the thought out of his head. Instead, he wraps his arm around her, pulls her into him and kisses the crown of her head, “Yeah, you’re under a lot of stress,”

“Ugh, and the not eating part kills me,”

Chuckling, Dean rubs at her arm, “Since when are you listening to orders anyway?” 

“I don’t, I just think I should maybe shed some weight, too. I’ve been stuffing my face with junk food since we broke up.”

“You are perfect the way you are, don’t even dare to change, and  _ hey _ ,”

“What?” 

“You broke up with me,” Dean says and there’s a tiny pinprick he feels in his heart. 

“No, it’s not true. I never wanted it. I just said it to prevent myself from hurting too much,”

He knows it. It was the same for him too. Looking over, he raises one eyebrow, “How’d it go?”

“Not good,”

“Yeah,” Dean breathes out and places another kiss to her skin, this time on her temple, “It’s not going great for me either.” With his next breath, he whispers against her skin, “Hold on, okay? I’ll get you out.”

Y/N turns her head so fast, her nose bumps against his and it would be so easy to just kiss her, but he doesn’t because she’s frowning, “You’re still looking for a way out?”

“Never stopped,” He says and his hand comes up and the pad of his thumb brushes against her cheek. 

“You should hurry up,” She pouts and he chuckles as he lets his thumb brush against her pouty lips. 

“I know,”

“How’s it going for you since?” She asks, and Dean doesn’t know if it’s out of curiosity or from the way she needs to know that she’s still pretty much relevant to him. 

Dean leans back, rests his head on the back of his couch and smirks, “Well, I threw myself into work, and tonight, I was drinking to drown myself in the pain that the only girl I want is going to marry some dick named Dick. I met a woman who bought me drink after drink and I took her home and,” He looks at her, squints his eyes, “You know the rest,”

“Were you going to fuck her?”

“Uh,” Dean hums, he’s not sure, he doesn’t know if they would have, “I think it was more the case of me being polite. I didn’t want to go to hers and my apartment is close to the bar I was in. Thought maybe we could sober up until I get her home or drink some more and pass out.” 

“Sure,” She cocks an eyebrow and there’s a cocky grin which he came to miss. 

“It’s the truth,” He boops her nose with his index finger, “I don’t think I would have gotten it up with the amount of alcohol I drank tonight,”

“No?” She questions him.

Dean shakes his head, “No,”

That super cocky grin is still on her face when she moves up to straddle him. The weight of her on top of him does crazy things to his body and when she sits on his lap, his dick betrays him and stirs to life. She’s only wearing fucking thin leggings, there’s not much fabric between them.

She grinds her ass onto him some more and Dean’s hand goes to her thighs, not really stopping her. He looks up, his bottom lip drawn between his teeth. Jesus, he gets harder. 

“You certainly have no problem getting it up with alcohol,” She giggles.

He has to chuckle too, thinks it’s ridiculous how much power she has over his body still, “Yeah, well, it’s you. Of course it gets hard. It fucking remembers you!”

Her hands go to his shirt and begin to unbutton one button after the other while she rocks on top of him. Dean fucking knows they’re not supposed to do this, not anymore, but he has a hard time resisting her. Not that he tries too hard to.

When she gets the shirt off, she helps him out of it, and Dean tears at her shirt hastily, brings it over her head and flings it to god knows where. He wraps his arms around her waist, his mouth connects with her chest, kissing and nibbling at her flesh until he sucks in her nipple through her bra, wetting the fabric. His hand roams around her back, fingers pinching at the clasps of her bra. As soon as it’s loose, she pulls it off and Dean has free access to her tits. He kisses and sucks at her nipple, rubs his scruff over her delicate skin.

Her hands are clawing at the back of her head, pulling his face further against her. He plays with her nipple some more until he moves up her chest again, tongue licking a wet trail up her throat until he kisses her mouth, and the feeling of her tongue against his makes him groan into the kiss. 

_ Goddammit _ , he fucking missed this. 

Breaking the kiss, she pants hard, her chest is heaving, her nipples brush against his skin with every breath she takes, “We shouldn’t do this,” She says and kisses him again. 

“We shouldn’t,” Dean agrees, but he’s not stopping either. Can’t possibly stop.

“Fuck, I missed you,” She curses as he sucks at her throat while his hands find the way into the seam of her leggings on the back. His big palms knead her ass before one hand goes further down, pushing itself between her crack to get to her pussy. She’s awfully wet and Dean lets out a low growl when he feels the slick on the tip of his fingers. 

“Me too,” He whispers, his hand leaves her ass again and he tears at the seam of her pants, pulling the fabric apart. 

She doesn’t seem to mind because she’s equally desperate, she’s still grinding herself on one of his thighs as her fingers work on his belt and damn near breaks his zipper from the way she pulls it down so quickly. 

There’s no foreplay, no fucking sweet talk, it’s just them being turned on and desperate for each other. It’s those little moments of raw lust and pure want. He wants to feel her, wants to hold her, wants to fuck her. She must be feeling the same.

Her tiny hand finds its way into his boxer and he pulls his throbbing cock and balls out while her other hand pulls his underwear down a little more for better access. His hands are on her ass as he lifts her up, and pulls her panties to the side. He was thinking of ripping them too, but he just couldn’t be bothered. It costs him too much energy when all his energy should be going into fucking her. His fingertips brush against her pussy, groans again at how soaking wet she is. 

“Fuck me,” She whispers desperately before he kisses her again, and she pumps him a couple of times before she places his cock to her entrance. 

He groans loudly into her mouth as he feels her wet and warm pussy sliding down his length, “Fuck,” He breathes, teeth gnawing at her bottom lip as she bounces up and down his shaft, “You feel fucking amazing,” 

She sits up straighter and Dean leans back, enjoying his view. His hand goes to her tits, cups them and twists her nipples between his fingers, “You are fucking beautiful the way you are, baby,”

Her hands are on his chest as she fucks herself on him. 

After a while she gets tired and retorts to grinding and from the way she moves her hips, he gets even deeper. It’s unbearably tight, especially when her pussy starts to clench around him.

“You’re close,” He pants, and his hands are still roaming her body. It’s as if his fingertips want to memorize every bump and every crease of her.

“Uh-huh,” She whispers.

“Uh-huh?”

“Yeah,” She smiles and closes her eyes.

Dean’s hands go up to her throat and he wraps them around it, squeezing just a little. It’s enough to make her grind on him faster as she chases her orgasm. 

“Just like that,” He says, “You’re doing so great, baby. Good girl,”

He knows what his words do to her and as soon as it leaves his lips, her pussy clenches around him so hard and a new gush of wetness surrounds his cock, dripping down his balls. 

_ Jesus, this fucking girl. _

He will never get enough of her. 

Releasing her throat, he lets her slump down on him, captures her lips with his and kisses her through her aftershock. Her body buckles up a couple more times. 

Y/N drops her head to his shoulder and Dean takes the opportunity to get rid of his pants and underwear completely before he stands up with her in his arms.

“Where are you going?” She asks, face nuzzling into his neck. 

“‘M not finished with you yet,” He chuckles as he spanks her ass hard, making her jerk in his grip as he walks them into his bedroom.


	32. Chapter.31 (FIN)

Y/N’s in her room, getting ready. She’s not doing all the work on her own as there are three women swarming around her who are making sure that her dress sits right and her make up is on point and the hair. Oh god, the hair. It’s combed and styled up into a bun that’s ridiculously high, but that’s apparently what Dick wanted. 

Ellen and Jo are her maids of honor and they are in her room and getting the VIP treatment. The number of women in the little confined space increased to six and that’s about the maximum capacity of estrogen her room can take. Not to say it’s also the maxed out capacity of people it can hold because it sure as hell gets harder and harder to breathe with the amount of hairspray the stylists are using. 

She thinks it’s the number of people in here that causes her breathlessness, but maybe it’s just the very thought of getting married to the biggest dick of them all in four hours’ time. 

It’s actually also funny when she thinks about it. Her father’s the King of all Kings while Dick’s the dick of all dicks. What will that make her? The Queen of dicks? God, she has to hold back a laugh when she thinks about it, which is totally inappropriate because she should actually be crying her eyes out. She did too much of that yesterday, so she doesn’t think there are any tears left to come out. She also texted Dean, because he seems to be the only one who understands what she’s going through and there was only one text he sent back which she still left unread as a reminder so it’s popping up whenever she touches her phone. 

> _ D: Hang in there, baby. It’s not going to be long, I promise. _

It’s fucking stupid, really. This whole marriage is a fucking scam and everybody knows it, but nobody dares to say anything against it. Her father definitely wouldn’t dare interfere because all he sees is fucking money. 

_ Ugh. _

She’s so done. The best thing she can do is try to put on a brave face. 

Two days ago it was so good. She was in Dean’s arms, which honestly, she thinks it’s the place where she belongs and where she feels safest. She had fucked him right into the sofa and he picked her up and made love to her in his bed. They fell asleep completely exhausted after that, only for him to wake her up in the middle of the night as he took her from behind, shoving his dick right into her leaking pussy that was still dripping with his cum. He made her come again while he fucked her from behind as he pulled her body to his chest. And he fucked her again in the shower before she left his apartment. 

Maybe it was his way to leave a lasting impression. Leave something for her to remember him by, until he can find a way out. Not that he has to impress her, because goddammit, if Dean’s not memorable, then she doesn’t know who is. 

They parted ways again two days ago, and she doesn’t know when she will get to be near him. The conditions of the prenup have not been revealed to her yet, but she doubts that it’ll state that she’s allowed to have an extramarital affair. The conditions of it will be revealed once they are married and even though she begged her father to let her stay with him, she knows full well that she probably has to move in with Dick. Wherever that may be. 

Y/N doesn’t even know if Dick will stay here or if she has to move back to California. She doesn’t know anything, to be honest. Doesn’t know what he expects of her, doesn’t know if he wants kids? Ew, the thought of having kids with Dick makes her shiver. She imagines little Dick’s running around being their evil self. No, thanks. She doesn’t even know if Dick’s really human or if he’s a test tube baby raised in a lab. He’s probably made out of skin and hair of dead dictators. 

Dick-tators.

She has to giggle again. 

Now she’s just really trying to find humor in times of sadness. 

Kids. Yeah, she maybe wants that. Kid, or kids. Plural. She’d have to make sure not to make the same mistake her dad did, though. It might be totally not appropriate and a little weird, but she can totally imagine Dean being a dad. He’d be all loving, caring, and protective over his child, she supposes. And he’d for sure be warm and welcoming, not cold and distant like Dick. 

Why is she even comparing the two of them? She honestly doesn’t know. There’s really nothing to compare. Dick could never reach the level that Dean’s is on, and yet, she’s marrying him and not the man she loves. Her life is really and truly fucked up. 

“Finished” Charlie announces as she gets up doing the last fixation to the seam of her dress. The red-haired woman stands back and braces her wrist on her hips as she marvels at her finishing touches. Grabbing her by the arm, Charlie turns her around where a helper positions the big rolling mirror for her to look into. 

The woman who is staring back at her is unrecognizable. There’s way too much makeup on her face, the dress is too big, too frilly, too many ruffles. God, she hates the woman she sees with every fiber of her being.

“Charlie, do you have other wedding dresses?” She hisses, is biting on her tongue not to just cry out loud.

“Uh..I still have some in your size in the shop,” Charlie says and in the middle of the sentence, her voice starts to get cheerful. Charlie must know how miserable she feels looking like this. Y/N remembers Charlie groaning out loud and rolling her eyes when she took the dress to her shop to get it fitted for the first time. 

“Good, tell someone to go fetch them. I’m not going to marry in this, not even to fucking Dick,” Her hands lift at the frills and lets them drop to the side. 

“Thank god,” Charlie squealed out of excitement, “My reputation would be damaged if I let you go out there in this garbage.” 

She’s so thankful Charlie has her back.

“Hey, it’s expensive garbage.” She tries to humor the red-haired woman.

“Eh,” Charlie shrugs, “It burns the same as cheap garbage,”

As Charlie walks over to her helper and tells the woman to drive to the shop and where to find the dresses she needs, Y/N pulls the makeup lady aside, to give her instructions, “Amara, I need you to take this off my face,”

“But,” Amara hesitates.

“No buts, Amara! I want it off and I want something simple, I don’t need fucking contouring and all that shit,”

“Mr. Roman,” Amara starts again.

“I’m going to be Mrs. Roman so, please, for the love of all things mighty, get this off or I’ll do my make up myself and tell them you did it. And please get the hair down, It feels like I’m in a freaking circus with that obnoxious backcomb! I’m not Amy Winehouse for fuck’s sake!”

God, she feels much better after she has barked out orders. Will this be her future now? Being at home and barking orders at maids? Ugh, she hopes not. 

But now that she told them what she really wants things to be for  _ her  _ wedding, she can relax a bit. Sitting back in her chair, she closes her eyes and lets the women work on her. 

  
  
  
  


*

  
  
  


The next time Y/N looks into the mirror, she gasps, but it’s a good kind of gasp, “Wow,”

“Yeah, right?” Charlie says and even Amara has come to terms with how she looks overall, “You’re hands down the most beautiful bride I’ve ever had the honor to dress.”

The dress is out of a dream. It’s long and made out of flowy chiffon. A bustier around her waist in lace holds her together, pushes her cleavage up a little, but not too much. It also probably costs a fraction of the dress Dick wanted her to marry him in. 

God, she can’t wait for Dick to see it and for his jaw to drop when he hasn’t got his way with her. This might be a rocky start to a marriage, but she really doesn’t care. Maybe he’ll leave her be and she only has to engage with him for outings and resorts to being the trophy wife he wants to marry her for in the first place.

She really looks beautiful and it’s even the first time she’s admitting it, too. It’s a huge fucking deal for her.

It’s only a little more than an hour left now and god, she hates it. She bets the first guests have already arrived. She wonders if her husband-to-be is already here.

Ellen has gotten them all champagne from the kitchen and they are sitting in her room, drinking and chatting as the clock nears her wedding hour. 

By the time there are only twenty minutes left to go, Y/N’s already quite tipsy. She tries to get up from the bed and needs two people to support her. They are all giggling at how clumsy she is. 

Ah, this is great, being drunk at one's own wedding. It’s certainly not what she has dreamed of when she thought back to her childhood where she fantasizes about marrying a prince. It is what it is, right? Life is no fairy tale. Not everyone gets to have a happy ending.

It’s when Y/N’s about to slip into her shoes that Charlie let out an audible gasp while she claps her hand over her mouth.

“What?” She asks, raises one eyebrow, but she’s still grinning from the alcohol in her bloodstream. 

Charlie looks shocked as she frowns. The woman doesn’t answer her though. Instead, she wordlessly grabs at the remote and switches on the TV in Y/N’s room, searches the channels until she settles on the local news.

There she sees it, and her jaw drops. 

All the girls have now gathered in front of the TV, watching as the images of Dick and Zach are led out of the Plaza hotel by authorities with their hands cuffed behind their backs. They are dressed in their tuxes, ready for a wedding that probably won’t happen anymore.

Her heart rate picks up.

What is happening?

The banner below the reporter that runs across the screen says that Dick is the main suspect of being in charge of a human trafficking ring that also trafficked teenagers as young as sixteen.

_ God _ , she feels sick. 

“Hey, at least you don’t have to marry him anymore, right?” Charlie says to lighten up the mood that has significantly dropped since they have turned on the TV. 

“Fuck,” Y/N curses under her breath. And she let the man touch her. All of a sudden she feels so grossed out.

The reporter is now on air and she orders Charlie to turn up the volume.

“Authorities are following an anonymous tip that Mr. Roman is supposed to marry the heir of the Lehne family, the city’s notorious mobster gang,”

_ Oh my god. _

Her one hand goes to her stomach as she clasps over her face with her other hand. Before she can get more nauseous or think straight, there’s a loud banging at the door. She flinches and all eyes fly to the door, including hers.

Amara is standing closest to the door and she opens it up without having to be asked.

Dean’s standing there in his tux while they can hear people talking and running around downstairs.

“Uh,” He says as he sees the women gathered in the tiny room, “I need to speak with Y/N, alone, please.”

“Right,” She nods and looks around. The women pack up their things and leave. 

He steps back and lets the women pass, “If I were you, I’d leave the property,” Dean whispers as they walk past him. 

As the last of them walk out, Dean closes the door behind him and walks deeper into the room where she is standing, still shoeless with her feet rooted to the floor. God, she doesn’t want to think of it because there are more pressing matters happening right now, but he looks so good. Dean looks fucking pretty delicious. It makes her wish that it was him she was marrying. Well, not that she’s marrying anyone now anyway. 

He smiles as he strides closer, and immediately, his arms wrap around her, pulling her into him as he kisses her.

“You did this, didn’t you?” Her hand cradles his face as he leans his forehead on hers. 

“Me?” He asks, but he chuckles.

“Dean, but what does that mean?”

“It means that we need to leave right now. The cops are on their way here and if they find you, you’re going to have to face jail time.”

“But what about you?”

“I won’t,” He says, shaking his head and his voice drops to a whisper, “Because I’m one of them.” 

Her smile falters.

“What?” She tries to wrap her mind around the new information, “You’re a cop? Oh, so what? You’ve been a cop this whole time? You double-crossed us?” She tries to stumble away out of his grip, but Dean holds her tight. 

“Hey,” He says, and presses his body closer to hers as he makes her stare into his eyes. That’s not really fair because it makes her lose herself in them, “Would knowing changed the fact that we fell in love?”

She blinks and frowns. 

_ Fell in love?  _

He knows that she loves him, but does he feel the same? And Dean’s right. Would that fact have changed anything? Maybe in the beginning it would have, but now? She admits to herself that the sense of familiarity was there right from the start. She fell in love with his action towards her, and it was never about his job. He didn’t start here to fall in love with her, but he opened himself up enough to let her into his heart. What does that say about him, really? And what does it say about her when she would let the best thing that happened to her out of her grip to face the consequences her family made her go through?

“You love me?” She asks and it’s a stupid thing to ask at that moment because Dean’s been lying to her this whole time and she should be mad but she can’t be. 

He lied to her, but she also knows that his feelings were sincere. His job description never involved taking care of her, yet he did. His job wasn’t to keep her entertained, to be her friend, yet he did all of it. He also never pressed her for any information. On the contrary, he tried to keep everything from her so she didn’t have to worry about it. 

Yeah, he might have been a cop all along, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s the only one who ever cared for her, that he’s the only one who tried his best to be her friend, the only one whom she trusted, the only fucking one who made her feel like she is worth something to.

“Duh,” He places a kiss on her nose as he chuckles, “I’ve been through fucking hell just to keep up the thing I have with you. I defied both my bosses just to feel the shred of happiness I felt when I’m around you. I think that says a lot already but yeah, I fucking love you, oka—”

Y/N doesn’t let him finish, presses her lips to his and Dean pulls her closer, one hand cradles her cheek.

“I love you too,” She says and she absolutely means it. How can she not? God, she doesn’t even care about the cop thing. Well, she does mind, but it’s not the right time. She now has to make up her mind if she wants to go with him and maybe get out of this life or stay here and face whatever happens with her family who cared less about her than Dean ever did. 

Dean chuckles, “I love you more,” 

“That’s not possible,” She smiles a weary smile.

“Baby, it’s not a competition, alright? When I say I love you more, it’s not to say that I love you more than you love me,” He brushes a thumb over her cheek, his eyes are so green, “When I say I love you more, it means that I love you more than the bad days that are going to be ahead of us. I love you more than the fights we’ll be having along the way, I love you more, because I defied all the obstacles that were between us, and I chose you. You understand? When I’m with you, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be, and there’s no place I’d rather be. As someone who has so many disguises and who always wants to be somewhere else, that says something, okay? I want you to understand this. ”

She’s crying but she nods her head anyway and Dean slips a finger below her chin, making her tip her head up so he can kiss her forehead.

“You look absolutely beautiful, by the way,” He grins and pecks her lips, “And now we should be going, the cops will be here any minute,”

“Where to?” 

“Do you trust me?” Dean counters her question with another one. 

Yeah, she does. 

He opens up the door to her balcony. 

“What? Dean, no!” She shakes her head. There’s no way she’s flinging herself off the balcony, she’ll break her fucking neck, “I can’t!”

“Trust me, I’ll catch you,” Dean says as he guides her out. 

Right when Dean wants to put his leg over the railing, the door to her room swings open and her dad steps in, with a gun in hand. 

Out on the balcony, she can hear sirens in the far distance.

“Dean! You fucking traitor! It was you, wasn’t it?” Her dad spits out his words and cocks his gun at Dean as he steps in further, his finger is already on the trigger.

“Woah,” Dean quickly steps in between her and her dad, “Azazel, I give you the last chance to flee, and if I were you, I’d fucking take it. The cops are on the way here, if they catch you, you’re going to rot in fucking jail. So if you have a shred of morality and dignity left in you, you’d let me take your daughter with me and you’d make an escape yourself.”

The King shakes his head. His eyes well up, something she has never seen in her life, “I can’t let you take her, she’s the only thing I have left after this whole family is falling apart because of you.” Azazel’s voice is strained.

“You and me, we both know that if it wasn’t me, it would have been someone else. And that someone else, would have let your daughter go down with you. So, if you love your daughter like you say you do, you’d let me take her away. I promise that I’ll take good care of her. This is my last undercover job. I’ve been pushing my boss to pull me out so many fucking times,” Dean tries to reason with her dad. The sirens come closer the longer they wait, “But you know why I didn’t get out before? Why did I stick through until this bitter end? It’s because of her,” Dean points his finger back at her, “I had to stick around because it’s part of the bargain I secured. I bargained a deal that would allow me to take her with me and we’ll be safe! She’ll be out of this life, she doesn’t have to be caged in anymore. She’ll be allowed to do whatever she wants without people knowing who she is. Isn’t that what a father wants for his child? Isn’t that what your wife wanted for her?”

Her father’s hand that’s holding the gun is shaking visibly and after two deep breaths, he lowers his gun, sticks it back into its holster underneath the jacket of his tux. 

“Thank you,” Dean says and nods, “Now go before they get you!”

The King looks at her one last time, nodding at her and he doesn’t even need to say it, but she knows that deep inside, he really does love her. She nods back as a silent bid farewell, and turns her attention to Dean who’s already jumping off the balcony. 

“Now you!” Dean calls out as sirens are coming closer. People from her family are scrambling around, trying to make an escape and she’s sure that there’s going to be a shootout. They don’t go down without a fight.

“Baby, hurry up!” Dean calls up again as she is hesitating. 

Her hands are on the railing and it’s hard with the dress but she manages to swing her legs over it.

“I can see your panties!” Dean chuckles and calls up. 

“Dean!” 

“Okay, I’ll stop, but please can you jump today? I have another wedding I have to crash!”

She rolls her eyes, “God, your jokes are so not funny,”

“Kacey begs to differ!”

“That’s not her fucking name!” She growls down and he’s laughing, “I swear if you don’t catch me,”

“Have I ever let you down?” He asks with a raise of his eyebrows.

No, he hasn’t. It always seemed like he had, but he has really never let her down. 

She lets go of the railing and lets herself fall backward, and true to his words, Dean was there to catch her. He sets her down and pulls her along with him.

It was really hard to run with one hand holding the dress up but she does run as fast as her feet allow. They run until Dean stops by the hedge where there’s a hole that is covered by some plants. He holds it open for her to get through and slips out after her. 

After running for another block, they come to a car that doesn’t look familiar to her. It’s a classic Chevrolet Impala. 

Dean opens the door, pushes her inside and gets in next to her. He smiles at her before he turns the engine and drives away.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


They leave the house behind and are turning into the street that would lead them out of the city. She turns to watch him, her teeth gnawing on her bottom lip.

“What?” He asks.

“I don’t have shoes and I’m still in a wedding dress.” She says, “I thought we’d go to your apartment and I can get changed there.”

Dean laughs as he takes her hand and places it to his lips. He kisses the back of it, “Baby, being on the run with you means that I had to leave everything behind, too. My apartment is gone.”

“You did that for me?”

“I’d do so many more things for you,”

Y/N sits back and lets the past hour sink in. After a while, she opens her mouth to speak, “I need essentials, a toothbrush, hair ties, and clothes.” She just lists a couple of things that she can think of.

“Is that the only thing you’re worried about? That you won’t have anything to wear or brush your teeth with?” He asks with a raise of his eyebrow, “I’ve packed everything by the way. It’s in the trunk. I raided your room.”

Oh, that’s why some of her clothes and shoes were missing, it all makes sense now.

“No?” She frowns at his question, “I worry about what we’ll be having for dinner too.”

Dean laughs out loud, “Jesus, you’re definitely something else. You ain’t even worried about where we’re going or where we’ll sleep tonight?”

“Nope,”

“Why?” 

She smiles a bright smile and leans over, places her head on his shoulder, “Because I’m with you.”


	33. Epilogue

**Four hours later...**

When Dean deems them far enough away from the city, he spills into a rest stop so they can change into something more comfortable. 

It’s not like Dean hasn’t thought of just eloping with her though, since they were both dressed for the occasion already with him still in his rented tux that he’s not gonna take back, and she’s in that fucking beautiful dress that he just knows that they won’t be able to afford to buy with the little savings he has stashed away. The bureau’s money for a new start should come in too, but who knows how long it’ll take and it’s just what it says on the tin. It’s money for a new start and he’ll use it for that. 

Well, they do now have a dress and a tux should the time come. She has gotten rid of her engagement ring on the way out of the city, just fucking flicked it out of the moving car. Dean wanted to protest because he was sure that they could get some cash out of it, but he couldn’t find it in himself to stop her. 

He gets out of the car and opens his trunk, waits for her to join him. 

There’s an assorted array of shoes and a suitcase of her clothes and she picks up one particular high heeled shoe that Dean just had to pack with him. It was black and had a lot of leather straps to hold itself together on one's foot. There’s another pair too that he just couldn’t leave behind. They almost look the same, but it has more lace around it. 

“We’re on the run and you packed high heels for me?” She asks him with one cocked eyebrow.

He shrugs, because there’s basically no good answer to why he packed them. He grins, “I was picturing me fucking you in them. And only them.”

“Oh my god,” She groans and starts to laugh. 

She unzips the suitcase and opens it while Dean squints his eyes. He knows he screwed up that part too, because one side of the suitcase is stuffed full with lingerie but he takes it with humor, hoping that she will too.

“Dean!” 

“What?”

She rifles through the stupid pile of lingerie before she checks the other side of the suitcase. 

“Two pairs of jeans, three leggings, a couple of shorts and a dozen shirts, even skirts and dresses, but there’s no jumpers or jackets?” 

“In my defense,” He starts to smile, “There was not enough space,”

“Oh, but there was enough for a gazillion pair of bras and underwear.” She sounds a little annoyed, pouts too, but he knows it’s partly for show. 

Dean weaves his arm around her waist, pulling her closer and places a kiss on her cheek, “If it helps, I will rip them apart and off your body one by one so we’ll have more space to buy more clothes.”

Her pout turns into a grin after he sprays her cheek with his kisses, “You better,” She giggles as he kisses down her throat, “But I’ll be cold,”

“I have enough for you to wear,” He says and it’s true. Maybe, subconsciously, he didn’t bring her things deliberately. Maybe, he thinks, it’s because he loves for her to wear his clothes. 

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


**Five weeks later...**

They’ve been on the road for five weeks now, hiding in safe houses that have been set up all around the country. 

Their first stop of their road trip, as Dean likes to call it to make it sound more easy, was Irondale, Ohio. They arrived at the cabin in the woods late in the evening and the heating’s not been on and there was no fireplace. They made the best out of it, though, stripped themselves naked and went under the covers to warm each other up. On their first night, they didn’t sleep much, but it’s not because they had sex. It’s because he told her the whole truth and answered her every question.

And sometimes? Sometimes, Dean thinks, intimacy isn’t about sex. Intimacy is about the truth. If you can tell someone the truth and you strip naked and stand vulnerable in front of them and have them accept you for who you are, that’s intimacy.

She forgave him and Dean spilled some tears for the life of the boy he couldn’t save. She held him, and it’s good. It was good to finally be able to open up to someone and let someone take care of him like he always tried to take care of others.

“You sacrificed yourself for me, is it worth it?” She asked as her finger thread in his hair. Dean had his head on her chest, his ear was pressed to her skin and he could hear her voice vibrating. 

“Yeah,” He whispers, “Sacrificing for love isn’t hard when you find someone who deserves it.”

He pushed himself up on his elbow and leaned down to kiss her.

*

  
  


They stayed there for 3 nights before Dean moved them. He figured that they can settle down somewhere, but not before this hype about them died down a little. There’s probably a bullet with his name on it out there, and he’d like to avoid being found. 

That’s the downfall of the undercover job once people find out, and Dean has not only angered one but two families, so he wanted to be extra careful.

Their next stop was in the forest near Grace, Kentucky. They had a fireplace there and it was actually really great. They stayed there for a week. 

Y/N has gotten adapted to her life away from the golden cage and Dean has to give it to her, she takes it like a champ. Yeah, she does freak out when she sees a spider in the bedroom, but she has never once complained about anything. Not about the state of the houses he brought her to, never about how dirty the place is. She also never mentioned once that she missed her old life. 

The next stop was outside of Moweaqua, Illinois. It wasn’t nice at all so they only stayed one night. 

And it went on like that. Iowa, Minnesota, Nebraska, South Dakota, and now they’re in Kansas a little outside of Lawrence where they have stayed the longest now.

While Dean actually kind of likes the way things are, he's also very desperate to settle down with her. Maybe it’s because of the fact that her period is late again for the third time he’s been with her. But it’s not only that. Late periods don’t really surprise him anymore, it’s more the fact that it’s over five days late. He went to the store to get a pregnancy test this morning and made her pee on the stick. They were kind of shocked to see the second line appearing.

Y/N had a harder time dealing with it than he did, telling him it was his fault. 

Which, it really is too, maybe? He hadn’t thought to take the pack of pills with him and sometimes they were too horny to think about a condom (not that he had any). He still thinks that it always takes two because he usually asks her where he should come and almost every time, she’d say that she wants him to come inside and that’s really when Dean couldn’t hold it back because he likes that too. And Jesus, he can never say no to her because her words always make him fucking weak when it comes out as a strangled moan from her lips. 

He tried to pull out every time but it’s hard to do it when her pussy grips his cock tight and milks out his cum for all he’s worth.

After they’ve both come to terms that they are indeed expecting a baby that’s due in approximately nine months, Dean would lie awake a lot at night, with her snoring softly in his arms, and he’d think back to what happened. He’d think back to his last job, wondering if he’d do the same things again. And then she’d stir and he would turn over, holding her a little tighter, his hand would pet her stomach, caressing her still non-existing bump and the answers right there. He wouldn’t change a fucking thing. 

  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  
  


**Three months later…**

They were on their way from Tennessee to Alabama where Naomi said she’ll meet them at a rest stop on the I-65. 

Y/N is sleeping next to him. It seems like she’s more tired lately, which is understandable. 

When they arrive, he wakes her up, nudging his nose against her cheek, rubs his beard over her skin. He’s grown out a beard since they’re on the run so he doesn’t look the same and while she absolutely loves his beard, she absolutely hates how it tickles her. And even though Dean knows that, he likes to just get on her nerves so that she’ll be angry at him and he can see the pout. 

He lays one hand on the barely there bump, pets it through her shirt that used to be one of his. As much as he likes her to wear his clothes, she likes it as much, if not even more and Dean doesn’t mind one bit. It’s too early to feel any movement yet, but he can’t wait for it to happen.

“Baby, we’re here,” He nudges some more until she stirs. 

Y/N’s already pouting even if she’s not totally awake yet. “You’re drooling,” He chuckles, “Had a good dream of me?” 

She blinks her eyes open, her brows knit together on her forehead and she sends him a glare. 

God, she’s always so grumpy after a nap. Abso-fucking-lutely adorable.

“C’mon,” He jerks his head to the diner where he knows Naomi’s already waiting because they’re running late, “Time to pick up our future.”

And that’s true. They will finally get their papers and the bureau got them a house in Lawrence, where she liked it the most on their way on the run across the country. 

Sam’s not living too far away either, apparently. He knows because he got Ash to track Sam’s whereabouts before Dean left. So, who knows, maybe a couple of years down the road when everything has quietened down, he’s going to be able to get in contact with his brother again.

For now, though, it’s Y/N and him against the world, and Dean doesn’t think he could wish for a better person by his side on this exhausting and wild ride and even though they have encountered more hardships than he thought they would, she always manages to see the good in things and honestly, she makes it all more bearable. It makes him never lose focus, makes him remember every day what he’s doing it for.

He gets out of the car and walks to the hood, waits for her to join him and for her to lay her hand in his.

Inside, Dean quickly scans the room to see if there’s a familiar face. He’s always on pins and needles when he steps into an unknown place. But when nothing looks out of place, he exhales and nods towards Naomi, who’s already waiting at a booth in the back. The diner’s crowded for this time of the day, which is a good thing because people will pay less attention to them and they can go undetected.

Dean lets Y/N slip into the booth first. When he sits down, he greets his former boss with a courtesy nod.

“You look good, Dean,” Naomi says in the cold voice of hers that he’s used to. The woman’s attention turns to Y/N, “And you must be Y/N, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

Y/N only nods, is probably intimidated by Naomi and Dean can’t even blame her. He’d probably be too, if he wouldn’t know that woman. 

“I don’t have a lot of time but here’s what you are waiting for. The documents to a new house, new ID’s, driver’s licenses, new social security numbers, a bank account with money for a start.”

He takes it and nods, “Thanks,”

“‘K,” Naomi nods back and then the woman gets up, “I wish you both a happy life and I hope I won’t see you again,”

They watch as the woman walks out and Y/N breathes out a “Wow,” to which Dean chuckles. 

“Yeah, that was my boss for you.” 

They stay a little longer and Y/N orders waffles. Dean didn’t order anything because he thought that he could get a bite of her waffles too, but apparently, pregnant women don’t share food so he’s stuck with his coffee. He isn’t too hungry anyway, he’s more excited to finally unpack that damn envelop of documents and look through it. So, he patiently waits until she finishes her waffles and they can get back on the road and drive up to their new home. 

While Y/N walks to the restrooms, Dean catches someone in the periphery of his eyes as he stands up from his seat to follow her. The man’s tall, bulky with his trucker clothes, cap and a full beard. But there’s something in his eyes and Dean can’t shake the feeling that he’s seen the man before. 

Dean lays a couple of dollar bills on the table and gets up as well, walks over to where the restrooms are and Y/N comes out towards him, shaking her wet hands in an attempt to dry them faster. He smiles when he sees her, but his attention soon shifts to the man who he saw earlier, who’s making an exit through the backdoor situated right behind the restrooms.

He takes her hands and guides her out quickly. Maybe he’s just being paranoid. There’s no chance someone could have followed them all these months. Yeah, he probably is just being paranoid because outside, Dean sees the man climbing into his truck with a Texan license plate. He’s relieved because he mainly can’t connect someone who would be out to get him with Texas. Of course this doesn’t mean anything but it means enough for him right about now. 

Inside the car, Dean opens the envelope to fish out his new driver’s license excitedly. He sees a picture of himself staring back at him and there’s his new last name on it.

_ Dean Smith. _

Y/N has to chuckle at his last name and then Dean pulls out hers, wondering what name she got. Wonders what tales the bureau manages to spin. 

_ Y/N Smith. _

She frowns, “So, I’m your sister or your cousin?”

“You could be my mom,” Dean’s grin is cocky.

“Or you my dad,” She shoots back and ouch, that hurts a little?

He can’t help but grin back again, though, “Babygirl, I can be your daddy,” He wriggles with his eyebrows and she can’t stop giggling herself. 

God, he fucking loves this girl.

Dean takes out the contract of the house, looks through it until he reaches the last page and looks over to her with a grin, “It looks like you’re my hot wife,”

_ Mr. & Mrs. Smith _

It states on the contract, and there are their fake signatures. 

Y/N pouts, “Does that mean I won’t get a nice wedding?”

Dean puts the document away and leans over to stow them into the glove compartment. He comes back to hover around her face, “You’ll get whatever you want, Mrs. Smith,” He whispers before he kisses her and she laughs into the kiss while her hand caresses his face, her fingers thread through his beard. 

It’s good, Dean thinks. 

Life’s fucking perfect.

With a smile, he starts the engine and drives off into their new future.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


While the two were giddy to get into the car, they didn’t notice the man in the truck watching them the whole time. The stranger watches them looking at their new documents before he fishes out his phone to make a call. When someone picks up on the other end, the man smiles into the receiver, “Yeah, I’ve found them.”


End file.
